


A thousand dollars for a kiss

by Zara_Zee



Series: Fifty cents 'verse [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage, Prologue contains graphic flashback to past rape of minor, Prostitution, References to Homophobia, Religious Discussion, Smoking, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zara_Zee/pseuds/Zara_Zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared has never been happier. He’s come to terms with his sexual orientation and he feels free to discover who he really is and what he wants to do with his life. Sure, there is the scandal surrounding his famous father’s arrest for soliciting a minor and the very public breakdown of his parents’ marriage, but so long as obsessively private Jensen doesn’t find out that Jared has famous parents, it shouldn’t interfere with Jared’s new life too much. Jensen is still sleeping with other men for money, and his animosity toward religion is a lot deeper and more intense than Jared first realized, but so long as Jared has Jensen’s heart, what could possibly go wrong?<br/>Being in a relationship is new for Jensen. It takes trust, and that doesn't come easily to him. He’s happy though, despite his growing list of problems. VIP client Sebastian Roche still thinks Jensen is his boyfriend; Jensen has a retaliatory beating from Pellegrino’s goons hanging over his head; and, thanks to a random act of kindness he showed to a homeless addict, he seems to have earned himself the little sister he never wanted. Still, so long as he can trust Jared with his heart, what could possibly go wrong?<br/>As is happens, almost everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2014 SPN_J2_Bigbang. Art by apieceofcake. See Art Masterpost [HERE](http://apieceofcake.livejournal.com/426975.html)
> 
> I have made up families for the major players, as I don’t personally feel comfortable casting non-actors in my fictional drama! I have also messed around with people’s ages. Jensen is only two years older than Jared. Story is not as dark as the warnings make it sound. There is a lot of schmoop too!
> 
> _Title is from a quote by Marilyn Monroe: “Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul.”_

 

_**July 1995** _

**T** he rooms at the _Crossroads Christian Re-education and Re-orientation Center_ are all singles—because they don’t want the gay boys tempted to fuck around after lights out, Jensen thinks snidely when he first arrives. They lock them in at night too, to protect them from wandering into temptation.

Not that Jensen is tempted. Well. Ryan is sort of cute. Not that Jensen is looking. Much. He promised his mama he’d give this a real go, and he is trying, because his life would be so much easier if he could just not look at guys and wonder what it would feel like to—

He cuts the thought off abruptly, like he’s been taught. Don’t go there. Don’t even think it. He has to stay away from sin, keep his thoughts pure. If he can just learn to look at girls and feel _that way_ about them, he’ll be so much safer; so much happier.

Jensen folds his arms behind his head and stares up at the ceiling. The narrow cot is hard, the pillow is lumpy and the blanket and sheets are threadbare. The room itself is more of a cell; no more than 7ft wide by 9ft long, by Jensen’s reckoning, and aside from the bed, the only other piece of furniture is a small chest of drawers for his center-issued grey track pants (two pairs), grey tee-shirts (three), Y-fronts and socks. Jensen snorts softly. He likes to look good, but he’s not obsessive about clothes, not like Corey. Besides, Jensen can totally rock the track pants and tee-shirt look.

Corey is who straight people picture when they imagine gay guys.  He has floppy blond hair, pale blue eyes and is really _theatrical_. He practically frothed at the mouth when the Center staff gave him his bundle of  grey clothes and told him that he’d have to hand over his purple ( _dark magenta_ , he’d corrected indignantly) skin-tight jeans, tie-dyed rainbow tee-shirt, and wrist-full of friendship bracelets.  Jewelry is banned too. Not that Jensen cares about that either. He’s never worn jewelry; his dad thinks it’s for women and sissies. He does miss his Sport Look hair gel though.

On top of the chest of drawers there’s a small bottle of water, and a Bible which Jensen is encouraged to read every night before lights out.

There is a large crucifix on the wall. There are no windows; the only source of light is a single, unadorned light bulb in the very center of the ceiling. The room is stiflingly hot.  

Jensen is finding it hard to sleep, both because it’s early—lights out is at 9.30pm—and because of the heat. He has already stripped out of his tee-shirt and is sleeping in nothing but his underpants. It’s a breach of the rules, but he’s too sticky to care.

The rattle of keys and the slow turning of his door knob is a surprise.

He sits up and then remembers that he’s bare-chested and reaches an arm down quickly, fumbling on the floor for his tee-shirt. He has it in his hands when the door swings open and Warwick Massee walks in. Warwick’s father, Michael, is in charge of the Center and Warwick works as one of the counselors. He’s a good looking guy, mid-twenties, with wavy dark blond hair, slate-grey eyes and a chiseled jaw, but he makes Jensen feel uncomfortable because his gaze always lingers on the boys under his care just a little too long.

“Jensen,” he says, voice full of reproach, “we have rules about modest dress for a reason.”

“Sorry,” Jensen says. “I was too hot.” He pulls the tee-shirt over his head, but before he can shove his arms into the sleeves, Warwick is across the room and grabbing the material of the tee-shirt where it’s bunched around his neck.

“Leave it,” the man says, using the tee-shirt to drag Jensen up onto his knees. He runs his fingers across Jensen’s nipples and then pulls him in close and kisses him, his lips hard and his tongue demanding entrance.  Jensen doesn’t participate in the rough plundering of his mouth. He endures it with the stillness of a frightened deer. When Warwick finally pulls away, Jensen isn’t quite sure what he should do. Should he shout for help? Should he punch and kick and bite?

“You’re a lost cause, Jenny,” Warwick says. “I can always tell. You’re a smart kid; you know it’s wrong of you to tempt men with your sinful lips and your naked body, and yet you do it anyway.” He reaches down and rubs at one of Jensen’s nipples again. It feels good, in a purely physical way. But this…what’s happening…what he can’t quite believe is happening…it’s not right, and Jensen doesn’t want it to feel good. He wants it to stop. “You know the rules,” Warwick says, “but you break them anyway, deliberately tempting me.”

“No,” Jensen shakes his head. “I didn’t mean—”

Warwick squeezes his nipple hard, his eyes flashing with anger and something else, something frightening that Jensen can’t quite identify. “Don’t lie to me, Jenny,” Warwick relinquishes his hold on Jensen abruptly, but it’s not a reprieve, instead he puts his hands on Jensen’s shoulders and pushes him onto his back.

 “What are you doing?” It’s a struggle to keep the fear from showing in his voice.

“Shh,” says Warwick. He palms Jensen’s cock and Jensen can’t help his rough intake of breath. “Yeah that’s it,” Warwick nods approvingly when Jensen starts to get hard. “You know you want it.”

“I don’t,” Jensen tries to push the man’s hand away and gets a smack to his thigh for his efforts.

“Yeah, you do. You want it bad. Such a slut.” Warwick continues to stroke and fondle and Jensen closes his eyes and bites back a sob because it feels good.  The stroking stops and Jensen is torn between being relieved and disappointed. He feels Warwick’s hands tugging at the waistband of his underpants and then they’re being pulled down, exposing his privates to the room.

“No!” Jensen reaches down to cover himself, but Warwick pushes his hands away and grips Jensen’s cock tightly in his fist, jacking him hard and fast and, oh _God_! Jensen can’t stop himself from thrusting up into the sweaty heat of Warwick’s hand. He wants to fight, he does, but he’s scared that someone will hear them. And it’s not so bad really. If he just lets Warwick do this, then maybe that will be enough to satisfy him; maybe he’ll go away. Jensen keeps his eyes tightly closed and just when he thinks he’s going to come, Warwick stops and flips him onto his stomach. He tugs Jensen’s underwear completely off and then pushes his legs apart. Jensen resists. “No,” he says, and tries to get up.

Warwick pushes him back down, puts all his weight on Jensen’s back and keeps him forcibly in place.

“I sat in when my dad did the intake interview with your mom,” Warwick whispers. “I can’t even imagine how hard it is for you, knowing that she hasn’t got long,” Jensen bites back a sob and Warwick shushes him, gently.  “She’s desperate for you to be cured of your homosexuality,” he continues softly, “desperate to go to the good Lord knowing that you’ll be safe, that there won’t be anything dirty and disgusting about you for your daddy to find out about.” Jensen shudders and Warwick eases the pressure on his back, moves to sit next to him on the bed. “You’re gonna be a good boy for me, aren’t you, Jenny?” Warwick pushes his legs apart again, exposing him, and strokes a hand across his buttocks. The noise that escapes from Jensen’s mouth is embarrassingly close to a whimper.

“Shhh,” Warwick says. “Don’t want anyone hearing us, do we? Don’t want everyone to know what a hungry little cock slut you are. Don’t want that getting back to your daddy.”

Warwick’s hand moves away.  There is a click and a squelch and a moment later a thick finger is pressing gently into his asshole. Jensen chokes out a sob and tries to pull away. He only succeeds in grinding his swollen cock into the mattress and the pleasure that surges through him is enough to distract him from the sudden shove of the finger deep into his ass.  The finger pumps in and out, in and out and Jensen wants it to stop, wants Warwick to leave him alone, but he’s terrified of someone overhearing them, of being thrown out for engaging in homosexual activities, of his daddy’s fists.

“Shh,” Warwick says again, and Jensen realizes that he’s been chanting under his breath, a litany of ‘No, no, no, no’.

The finger pulls out. “You have to keep quiet, Jenny,” click, squelch. “If you can’t keep quiet, bite the pillow.” Two slick fingers are pushed inside of him. Jensen buries his face in his pillow and groans. The fingers stab and stroke and twist, and Jensen grinds his dick against the mattress. It feels so good, except for how he doesn’t want it. Not here, not now, not with this man.  It’s confusing how his body is saying ‘God, yes’ while his mind is saying ‘Hell, no’. Jensen feels the prickle of tears behind his eyes.

The fingers pull out. Jensen hears the crinkle of plastic being torn, and then another click and squelch. And then, what can only be Warwick’s cock is pressing against his hole. At first it feels good. And then it starts to hurt like Hell as the cock forces its way in deep. Warwick eases in slowly, gently, but Jesus _fuck_ , it’s excruciating. Jensen grunts into the pillow and rubs his dick against the sheets. It helps him to relax, to unclench and allow the intrusion.  Jensen grips the sheet hard and hopes it will be over quickly. He isn’t quite sure when it stops feeling fucking terrible and starts to feel good. Not toe-curlingly awesome, but…nice. Which is actually all kinds of horrible. He doesn’t want Warwick touching him like this, it makes him feel sick and wrong and dirty, but now that it isn’t hurting any more he can’t stop his body from responding; from liking it.

The sheet beneath him is wet with sweat and the pillow is damp with tears and saliva. The bed doesn’t squeak; it doesn’t hit the wall. The only sounds in the room are the slap of skin on skin, harsh breathing and quiet whimpers.

 Jensen wants it to be done; tries to go someplace in his head where Warwick can’t get to him. It works for a while, and then Warwick changes his angle, hits something inside of Jensen that’s like a pleasure switch and he’s hit with pure, unadulterated bliss. Suddenly, Oh _God_ , suddenly it _is_ toe-curlingly awesome. Jensen humps the bed and writhes, shoves himself back on Warwick’s dick and comes with a silent cry. He hears Warwick’s sharp intake of breath and then the man drives into him, hard and fast and Jensen slides back and forth in the wet of his own spunk. It’s really and truly gross. Finally Warwick stills, his dick pressed deeply into Jensen’s ass, and then with a moan he collapses onto Jensen’s back.

It hurts when Warwick pulls out and Jensen can’t help his hiss of pain.  Warwick tells him that he’s alright; that he’s not bleeding; that there’s no damage done. He tells Jensen that he’s a good boy; that the fact that he came proves that he actually wanted it; that they’ll do this again, as often as they can, for as long as Jensen stays at the Center. He tells Jensen to clean himself up.  And then he leaves the room. Leaves Jensen lying alone in a dampness of sweat, spunk and tears.

Jensen gets up. His ass aches, but it’s not a bad ache. Not really.  He uses the sheet and some water from the bottle next to his bed to clean himself up. He scrubs the spunk from the sheet. It’s hot enough that it will be dry long before morning inspection.

He puts his tee-shirt on properly, and then takes the pillow and puts it on the floor next to the wall. He lowers himself carefully, wincing when he sits down, back against the wall, knees drawn up, arms resting on his knees. It doesn’t really hurt, as such; it just feels as if he’s still got something shoved up inside of him. It doesn’t feel bad. _He_ doesn’t feel bad.

He takes a long drink from the water bottle and tries to pretend that his hands aren’t shaking. His stomach cramps and for a moment he thinks he’s going to hurl. He breathes through it.

Jensen started stealing his daddy’s Marlboros when he was twelve, just like his older brother Zac had done. The old man didn’t seem to mind.

Zac works with their dad down at the beef processing plant now; he’s nineteen and buys his own cigarettes. Occasionally he buys Jensen a pack too.  Jensen takes another swig of water; watches his hand shake. What he wouldn’t give for a smoke right now. 

Jensen stares into the darkness. He tries to pretend he isn’t crying. He can almost make out Jesus on the cross; wonders if he had a good view of what just went down. His lips curl. If God is everywhere, why did he let Warwick do that? Jensen lets his head thunk back against the wall and wipes angrily at his tears. God is clearly a douchebag; a deadbeat dad who doesn’t give a shit what his creations get up to. Jensen feels so helpless; so out of control; so…so _used_.  He can’t stand being in his own skin and if a shower was an option right now, he’d be in there, scrubbing himself raw.

Despite Warwick’s claim, he _hadn’t_ wanted it. But…Jensen frowns…he _did_ get off. He just had to clean the evidence of that off the bed. If he enjoyed it enough to have an orgasm, what does that mean? Did he actually want it, deep down? Did Warwick somehow sense that? He runs a trembling hand across his mouth.

Jensen takes another swig of water. Warwick said that he was going to do this to Jensen again, as often as possible. Jensen chews at his bottom lip. Maybe he should try to get thrown out? He frowns. If that happens, his dad will find out that he was here, getting cured of his ‘homosexual tendencies’. Same deal if he runs away. His dad thinks Jensen is staying with Aunt Lynette, Mom’s sister, for the summer. If he finds out that Mom sent him away to get cured of gayness, he’ll take it upon himself to beat the gay out of his son. Jensen shudders.  He’s endured his daddy’s belt and his drunken fists enough to know how very bad it’s going to be if his dad ever figures out that his youngest son likes boys. At least what Warwick did to him felt good…eventually. All things considered, he’d rather take his chances with Warwick than with his dad.

Jensen thinks about…the sex. In all honesty, the actual fucking had been…physically, it had been okay. He’d had a pretty awesome orgasm, so he couldn’t really complain, right? It was something he wouldn’t mind doing again, in the right circumstances. Jensen frowns and chews on his bottom lip. What he’d hated was the lack of choice. That had sucked. Jensen never wants to be forced into sex ever again. Which means he needs a plan.

He takes another mouthful of water and wishes his hands would stop shaking. He wonders whether it’s shock causing it or lack of nicotine. Maybe lack of caffeine. Jensen inclines his head; bites at his bottom lip again. Warwick’s going to be back. He’s going to want to fuck him again and Jensen doesn’t think he can stop it from happening without his dad finding out _everything_. But maybe…maybe Jensen can do it on _his_ terms. Warwick wants this to be Jensen’s fault; wants to blame Jensen for his own vices. And that gives Jensen a way to control this. He’ll go and find the counselor tomorrow, see if he can get a little one-on-one time with him, and then he’ll lay it on the line. He can have Jensen whenever, wherever; willing and compliant. But Jensen’s going to want a little something in return. Like a cup of Starbucks every morning and a couple packs of Marlboro a week. Maybe the occasional Happy Meal.

Fuck Warwick, calling him a slut. Jensen would much rather be a whore.


	2. Chapter 2

**_March, 2000_ **

**J** ensen’s heart was pounding when he woke up, and it took him a long moment to realize that he’d just been dreaming; for the residual fear and hopeless dread to leach from his pores and for reality to reassert itself. He hauled himself upright, shoved his pillow up against the wall and leaned back, breathing hard.

Fuck. He hadn’t had that dream in a while. He reached toward his nightstand and picked up his cigarettes, flipped one out of the pack and then slid his lighter out of the pack’s plastic covering. The flare of light in the dark room was like a lifeline and the first rush of nicotine helped him to settle his nerves; to calm down and think rationally.  

In retrospect, it was pretty obvious why the dream had hit now.  

Jensen might not have finished—or, as it were, _started_ —High School, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. Despite appearances to the contrary, he was something of an introvert. Sure, he could play whatever part his clients wanted him to, but that was just acting; it wasn’t really him. Jensen spent a lot of time in his own head; he knew himself pretty well and he knew that this thing with Jared was opening a lot of old wounds.

Jensen was aware that he wasn’t exactly a poster child for mental health or healthy sexuality. It had taken him years to even be able to admit to himself that what Warwick had done to him had been rape. It had taken him even longer to admit that it had fucked him up in ways he was only just starting to understand now. His coping mechanisms had been destructive and really unhealthy. He knew that he had intimacy issues; knew that he used sex to manipulate people and to keep them at arm’s length. That’s what a court-appointed counsellor had told him, anyway. Jensen had mostly rolled his eyes and made crude jokes during his sessions with her, but her words had stuck and later, when he really thought about it, he figured maybe she had a point. So this … whatever-it-was…with Jared was leaving him feeling vulnerable, and the fact that he hadn’t seen or heard from Jared since the morning after they…were intimate, wasn’t exactly helping.

Jensen lit another cigarette off the butt of the first one. He dropped the finished butt into the bottle of water sitting on the nightstand and made a mental note not to drink from the bottle any more. Goddamn Chris for coming into his room and taking the ashtray again. Chris hated him smoking in bed, said he was going to fall asleep with a lit cigarette and incinerate himself one night. Fuck him. That had been one time. And he’d still been doing Oxy at the time, so you know.

The Morning-After-Jared had been surprisingly _not_ awkward.  Jensen had never actually had a real Morning After before. Except for that one time with Chris and really, the less said about that the better; mostly because Jensen had been so fucked up that he didn’t actually remember what had happened, just knew that he’d woken up with his pants around his thighs, dried jizz on his belly and in his pubes, and a semi-naked Chris wrapped around him. It wasn’t something they talked about. Ever.

But the Morning-After-Jared, Jensen had woken up to find the younger man propped up on one elbow, watching him sleep with a goofy grin on his face. Jensen had waited, still and quiet, his breath held, to see if one of them was going to freak out. When neither of them did he had offered Jared a tentative smile.  Jared’s dimples had burst forth from his face and really, Jensen wouldn’t have been surprised if a Disney-esque smiling sun had dawned behind his head and cartoon woodland animals had suddenly started frolicking all around him. But Jared had just planted a sloppy kiss on Jensen’s lips and then demanded breakfast. Jensen had made pancakes and Jared had smothered his in butter and maple syrup, giddy with excitement. It had been a good morning. Probably one of the best Jensen had ever had.

That had been a week ago.

At first, Jensen had just assumed that Jared was busy, that their schedules weren’t lining up. But Jared was never around. And Chad was avoiding him. And when Jensen had confronted Jeff and demanded to know where Jared was, the former-priest would only say that Jared had some personal business to take care of. And he wouldn’t look Jensen in the eye.

On a good day, Jensen imagined that Jared had gone back to the seminary school to withdraw from his priest studies; had maybe even gone to see his family; perhaps to come out to them. On a bad day, Jensen imagined that Jared had come to his senses and run for the hills; that he’d realized there was no future in dating a hooker.  Because if he was just sorting out his schooling, surely he could’ve called Jensen to let him know what was going on?

Jensen knew that Jared hated calling his cell phone, knew that it made him feel like a client, but still.

Jensen dropped his second cigarette butt in the water and reached for his cell phone. He had three new text messages; one from Sebastian, which would either be to confirm or cancel their next appointment and could wait until the morning, one from his Thursday regular Dan, which, likewise could wait, and one from an unknown number. Jensen opened that one. You know, just in case it was Jared.

It wasn’t Jared. It was a potential new client who’d been given his number by Seb. Huh. Maybe that’s what Seb’s message was about.

The last thing that Jensen wanted right now was a new client; particularly one who sounded as high maintenance as this one. Maybe he could handball him over to Chris? However he dealt with it, it wasn’t something that he needed to deal with now, so he put his phone on the side table and lay back down, tucking his comforter up underneath his chin and closing his eyes.

Tomorrow would be a new day. Tomorrow, Jensen was going to get some proper answers about what was going on with Jared, even if he had to bust some heads to do it.

\--

The wrought iron gates of the monastery slid open, allowing Jeff Morgan’s van through, before grinding to a halt and then sliding shut again. As the van’s tires crunched up the long, crushed-rock driveway, Jared stared vacantly out of the side window, and tried, for the hundredth time to decide how he felt.

He’d come home this morning, basking in the afterglow of his amazing evening with Jensen, to the news that his father had been arrested for having sex with an underage prostitute and his mom was filing for divorce. Hordes of paparazzi and E! News reporters were camped out in front of his parents’ house, so Jared was being smuggled in through the monastery. For this reason, if no other, Jared was profoundly grateful for the isolated way he and his siblings had been raised; the media had no idea what he looked like, which meant he might be able to hang onto his privacy throughout all this.

Jared had known, in an abstract kind of way, that his parents were actors. From the little his father had let slip, Jared had gathered that they were Shakespearean stage actors. When he’d joined the monastery and gotten access to the internet for the first time in his life, he’d made the shocking discovery that they were actually A-list Hollywood movie stars. Both his mom and his dad had above-the-title billing in any movie they starred in, and they’d done a variety of thrillers, dramas and romantic comedies, sometimes together, sometimes separately. Jared had never seen a single one of their movies though; they were all ‘unsuitable for children’ and banned by his parents in their own home.

“You okay?” Jeff’s voice dragged him from his reverie.

“Yeah,” Jared trailed his fingers down the glass of the window. “It’s only been a week and a half since I was here, but it seems like a lifetime ago.”

“A lot’s happened,” Jeff ventured.

Jared nodded, but didn’t reply.

They pulled into the main courtyard and drove past the fountain with the statue of Mary and Baby Jesus in the center, before pulling up in front of the broad stone steps that led into the main office building.

Brother Peter was waiting for them on the steps. He shook Jeff’s hand and ruffled Jared’s hair affectionately. “How you holding up, kid?” he asked.

 Jared shrugged. “Shocked, I guess. It all seems kind of…not real.”

Peter showed them into Father Michael’s office and then retreated. Father Michael surprised Jared by pulling him into a hug. Once he’d done hugging him, he held him at arm’s length and looked at him hard, before letting go of him.

“How are you, Jared?”

“Okay, I guess.” As he spoke, Jared was drawn towards the full-length mirror that Michael used when putting on his cassock for service. He gazed at his reflection and saw a vibrant, stylishly dressed young man; someone full of life, with boundless energy to give to the world, someone who needed to love and be loved. In that moment he knew that he’d made the right decision. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath, savoring the musty scent of stone, leather, old books and incense that was uniquely Father Michael’s office. He turned swiftly and caught Father Michael looking at him with a knowing kind of sadness.

“You’re leaving us,” Michael said.

Jared nodded. “You were right. I was hiding here. This isn’t my path,” he waved a hand toward the door, “but out there, I can do _so_ much.”

“He’s good with people,” Jeff added. “Our clients like him, and they want him to like them, so they listen to what he has to say.”

Michael smiled. He sat down at his desk and invited them both to take a seat. “I’m glad,” he said.

Jeff grinned. “Well that has always been your particular talent, Father, helping people to find the right path.”

“Plus, I’m gay,” Jared blurted.

Michael looked up at him and then glanced at Jeff before turning back to the younger man.  “You’re sure?”

Jared nodded, his cheeks heating.  “I was never interested in girls. And being out there in the big wide world, meeting openly gay guys, it helped me figure out why.”

“Ah,” said Michael. There was a long moment of silence and then he continued. “I wish you every happiness, my son. Obviously, I can’t condone,” he cleared his throat, “but, uh, I truly hope you’re blessed with love and happiness,” he cleared his throat again. “Are you going to tell your mom?”

“I don’t know. Things are pretty stressful for her right now; I don’t want to add to that.”

Michael steepled his hands on the desk in front of him and looked pensive. “When I first met your mom she was nineteen years old. She’d just stared in _A candle for Mary Magdalene_ , playing Bridie O’Donnell opposite that Irish actress, what’s her name?” Michael clicked his fingers a couple of times, “Brenda Fricker, who played Sister Mary-Catherine. You know the story, right?”

Jared shook his head.

“It’s based on a true story, which took place in Boston during the 1960s. Your mom played a new, young wife; a devout Catholic and diabetic, who barely survived the birth of her first child.  Brenda Fricker played a nun-cum-midwife from the local parish, an older woman who was struggling with her faith. She attended Bridie during that first birth and formed a close, long-lasting friendship with the young mother.  This was during the years that the Second Vatican Council was taking place, and both the women had been hoping and praying that the Vatican would change its position on contraception, which, as we all know, didn’t happen. In 1968 Pope Paul VI issued _Humanae Vitae,_ which reaffirmed traditional Catholic teaching on the subject of birth control, and in 1969 Bridie died giving birth to her fourth child, with Sister Mary-Catherine by her side. Sister Mary-Catherine subsequently left the Church and became a recluse, but she wrote a best-selling novel about her friendship with Bridie, which they made into a movie. Your mom got a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination for the role, and she caught your father’s eye too. He arranged for her to star opposite him in his next film, and promptly proceeded to court her and woo her with single-minded determination.  When I met your mom, she really was a new, young wife,” Michael sighed. “What I’m trying to tell you, in a very long-winded, roundabout way, is that your mom didn’t really know your father when she married him. But she has always taken her marriage vows very seriously. I know you saw a lot of the bad press surrounding your father when we gave you access to the internet here.”

Jared pulled a face and nodded.

“So you know that your mother has dealt with your father’s infidelity in the past. And presumably you know his views on homosexuality.”

Jared nodded again. “He’s more anti-gay than Brother Paul. He’s gonna disown me, for sure.”

Father Michael didn’t contradict him. “This latest incident with the young girl has been the final straw for your mom,” he said. “It’s not something she can forgive. The marriage is over. But she loves all you children fiercely and she will fight for each and every one of you.  It may distress your mom to hear of your orientation, but only because she knows that it’s still a harder path in our society. But it will also give her extra fuel to sustain her in the upcoming battle she’s going to have with your father.”

“So you think I should tell her?”

Father Michael nodded slowly. “Yes, Jared. You should tell her.”

\--

It had been several years since Jared had last climbed over the crumbling section of blue stone wall that ran between the monastery and the grounds of his own home.  Even though he knew they were going to be there, he was still shocked by the two bulky, Kevlar-clad, semi-automatic rifle-carrying security guards who greeted him on the other side.

“Name?” the taller of the two asked in a bored tone, pointing the gun right at his chest.

“Jared.”            

The guard raised an eyebrow and looked distinctly unimpressed. Jared sighed.

“Jared Francis Gumm.”

The security guards lowered their guns. “This way, Sir. Ms Monaghan is waiting for you.”

Thomas Gibson Garcia was Jared’s dad’s stage name. His real name was Thomas Gilbert Gumm. Jared could see why he’d changed it; and why his mom had chosen to keep her maiden name when she got married.

Catherine J Monaghan was taking tea on the back verandah. She was dressed in white wide-leg cotton trousers and a long-sleeved white peasant blouse. A white and gold head-scarf covered her head, the length of it draped around her neck and shoulders hijab style, and her eyes were hidden behind a pair of wide-framed dark sunglasses.  She stood when Jared was almost to the verandah, her arms spread wide, and he went to her and hugged her tightly. She squeezed him back and Jared could feel the tiny tremors running through her arms.

“I’ve missed you so much, baby,” she whispered.

“I’ve missed you too, Mom.”

“Let me look at you,” she released him and stepped back, her head tilting to one side as she examined him. Jared fidgeted a little under her scrutiny.

“You look good,” she said, her lips twisting into something that might have been a smile. “New clothes?”

He nodded, not sure how much she knew about where he’d been and what he’d been doing.

“Let’s sit down,” she said, and pulled him onto the wicker two-seater beside her.

“Tea?” She turned over a tea cup and then picked up the pink floral-patterned china tea pot.

“Yes please.”

She poured. “Help yourself to…whatever you’d like. There’s cream and sugar and honey and lemon.”

Jared added some sugar to his tea and stirred it vigorously, trying not to stare at the armed guards who were standing at the foot of the verandah, facing out toward the lawn.

“I can’t believe how much you’ve grown up in the last year,” his mom said. “I think you got even taller. You’re going to be a giant, Jared.”

Jared took a sip of his tea. The dainty bone china cup looked stupidly small in his big hand and he missed Sam and Jeff’s sturdy mismatched mugs.

“So,” his mom continued, “tell me what you’ve been doing. Father Michael said you’d been doing some outreach work?”

“Yeah,” Jared cleared his throat. “In West Hollywood.”

“Oh? And how was that?”

Jared frowned. “Illuminating.”

His mom nodded. “Yes. I can imagine…” she trailed off as her chin began to quiver. She put a hand to her mouth as if trying to push back the sobs that were threatening, and Jared moved closer to her and put an arm around her shoulders. She broke down then, turning her face into his chest and sobbing hard, one hand twisted in his button-down shirt. Jared patted her on the back and murmured reassurances into the top of her head until finally her sobs subsided and she pulled away from him, taking off her sunglasses and rubbing at her swollen red eyes.

“I’m sorry,” her bottom lip was still trembling. “I shouldn’t have unloaded on you like that. I’m supposed to be the mom.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Catherine smiled tremulously. “How much do you hate us right now?” she asked.

Jared’s face scrunched in confusion. “Hate you? Dad maybe. But you? For what?”

Catherine wiped at her wet cheeks. “For keeping so much from you,” she choked back a sob. “We just wanted to keep you safe; to keep you away from the prying eyes and the paparazzi and the _intense_ public scrutiny.  Sometimes I questioned just how cut-off we kept you. But we wanted you to be _children_. To be carefree and _safe_.”

Jared nodded. “I get that. I do. And I don’t hate you for it. But you didn’t really equip us to deal with the world. And the nanny you hired? Total bitch.”

Catherine gasped and covered her mouth with her hand again, before giggling. “You know, I never liked her. But your father wouldn’t hear a word…” she trailed off with a frown and then leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “Do you think I should fire her?”

“Definitely.”

She smiled. “Then I will. I’m starting afresh, Jared. Things are going to be different from now on. I’ll do what _I_ think is best, and your father…” Her face fell, suddenly and dramatically, and she put a slender, manicured hand on top of his large, nail-bitten one and squeezed. “I don’t want a divorce.”

When Jared started to speak she hushed him. “I’m still Catholic. I still believe in ‘til death do us part. But what he did…Jared, I can’t… I… I know I’ll have to get a _legal_ divorce, but we were married in the Church and…Jared…I’m going to try to get an annulment,” she paused and took a tremulous breath. “It’s not…He…oh Jared, I don’t want to burden you with this. You shouldn’t have to…”

Jared barked out a laugh. “My father is a hypocritical, cheating, bigoted, homophobic scumbag. It’s not exactly a secret. My God, Mom, you have no idea how much it scared me when I realized how many people out there hated him. The internet’s full of his insane rants. And I’ve seen the news reports. I know, okay? I _know_. And you have my full support. Whatever you want. However you want to deal with this.”

Catherine’s mouth was a flat line, but she didn’t look angry, so much as resigned. “You really have grown up. You’ll make a good priest, Jared.”

Jared picked up his tea cup again and squirmed in his seat. “About that,” he said, staring hard at the glass table top. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Catherine studied him intently. “You’ve changed your mind about entering the priesthood?”

Jared nodded. “Yeah. I just. I don’t think it’s the right path for me.”

“What made you change your mind?”

Jared studied the table top again. “Just,” he shrugged. “I guess when I had a chance to really think about it, I realized that there were too many issues that I don’t agree with the Church’s stance on. It would feel…dishonest to be ordained,” he ran a tired hand across his eyes. “And also, I realized some things about myself and, well…”

Now that the moment had come, Jared wasn’t sure that he could actually bring himself to say the words. Telling his mom would definitely make it real. And what if she reacted badly? What if she disowned him? He could still see the bleak look in Jensen’s eyes when Jared had asked him how his parents had reacted, and oh dear Lord, he didn’t want to be cut off, to be homeless, to be—

“What is it?” his mom said, putting her hand on his knee. “You know you can tell me anything, right Jared?”

Jared gulped in air and then let it out slowly, before raising his head to meet his mother’s eyes. “I’m gay,” he said.

His mom nodded. “I did sometimes wonder if you might be.”

Jared wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Really? Why? Because I had no idea.”

His mom shrugged. “Little things. I kept telling myself it was just because you were so isolated, that you didn’t really understand that some behaviors weren’t appropriate for little boys—”

Jared held a hand up before she could go any further. “Jeff, at the Outreach Center, made me do a lot of reading. Gender norms are just social constructs—”

“I didn’t mean they _weren’t_ appropriate, I meant society wouldn’t view them as appropriate.”

Jared nodded. “What sort of _behaviors_ are you talking about?”

His mom smiled. “Well, when you were little, you loved putting on my dresses and my high heels and my lipstick and performing plays for us. Do you remember that?”

Jared cocked his head to one side and thought. “Not really. I do remember Nanny being really cross with me on various occasions and scrubbing so hard at my face with a wash cloth that it hurt.”

“You only did it until you were about six,” Catherine frowned. “I always suspected that Nanny might’ve put a stop to it.” She covered her face with her hands. “I’ve been a terrible mom. I should never have given her such free-rein with you children.”

“You were busy,” Jared reasoned.

Catherine shook her head. “I was self-absorbed. I thought that taking you from impoverished circumstances and giving you all this,” she held her hands out wide, “was enough. But it wasn’t and…I’m going to do things differently from now on. I promise.” She reached out again and squeezed his hand. “So tell me, have you found yourself a nice young man?”

Jared’s blush was answer enough.

\--

Thursday was Jensen’s Ellie day. There were several vice cops to whom he gave free blow jobs, along with the occasional piece of information about asshole pimps, asshole drug dealers and anyone else who was causing trouble on the streets that Jensen had once called home. Tonight he was seeing two of them and, over the course of the evening, there was a judge and an assistant DA too, both paying clients.

This particular Thursday, Jensen headed out early so that he could call in at _Per vias rectas_ on his way to work.  Jeff was nowhere in sight, but Sam was sitting at the computer and Jensen weaved his way across the room and stopped beside her.

“Hey, Jensen,” Sam looked up at him with a smile. The smile faded when she processed the expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I wanna know what the Hell’s goin’ on with Jared. And no more bullshit.”

Wow. Until he spoke, Jensen hadn’t realized how angry he was.

“Have a seat,” Sam said.

Jensen scowled and shook his head, his body taut with fury. “Just tell me what he’s doin’ and then I’m outta here.”

Sam pushed her chair back from the desk. She put her hands on her hips and leveled a stare at him.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” she said, her voice flat. “I will not have a conversation with you while you’re standin’ over me with your fists clenched. So either sit down, or get out.”

For a brief, rebellious moment Jensen considered just turning on his heel and walking out, but he was sick of being kept in the dark, he _needed_ to know what was going on, and besides, he’d seen the brief flash of fear in Sam’s eyes. He dropped into the chrome and black vinyl visitor’s chair grudgingly and then looked up when Sam huffed. He met her eyes and she raised an eyebrow then folded her arms across her chest.   

“He just took off,” Jensen said. “He spent the night and then he… _fuck_ ,” he put his head in his hands. “I turned into a twelve-year-old girl, didn’t I?”

Sam huffed again. “Feelings aren’t just for women, you know. You’re allowed to have them too, Jensen.”

Jensen scrubbed a hand across his face. “Yeah. Well. It’s usually better if I don’t. So what’s goin’ on with Jared? Jeff wouldn’t say anything, just said it was ‘personal business’.”

Sam nodded. “A family emergency. And that’s really all we can say. It’s not for us to share his private business. Around here, what people tell us in confidence stays in confidence.”  

Jensen supposed he couldn’t really argue with that. He chewed on his bottom lip and rubbed at the back of his neck. “D’you know if he’s gonna come back?” he blurted, and then sank lower in his chair, mortified by the emotion he was waving around for everyone to see.

Sam smiled at him. “Jeff’s picking him up tomorrow morning. I’m sure he’d be pleased to have you stop by.”

\--

Officer John Reardon was a good guy. He only ever asked to see Jensen when he either needed information or when there was something he thought the street trade ought to know about; a dangerous trick, an impending mob turf war, a vice crack down.  Sure, he always took the free blow job, but he always shelled out for a motel room, and besides, Jensen genuinely liked the guy, knew the feeling was mutual, and figured that it was a very small price to pay for having an honorable vice cop in his corner.

“Pellegrino made bail,” Reardon said as he zipped up.

Jensen was wrapping the used condom in toilet paper. His hands stilled briefly and then he shrugged and finished the task, dropping the ball of paper in the trash can. “Figured he would. S’not exactly unexpected.”

Reardon leaned back against the vanity and folded his arms across his chest. “Word is he’s gunning for you, Apparently he’s pissed at a couple other people too, uh, Misha Collins, Gen, Danni, someone called Jared?”

“Jared works for Jeff.”

“Huh. Well apparently he’s decided that he can kill five birds with one stone, so to speak, by going after you. Misha he won’t touch for obvious reasons, and apparently the crazy Russian’s put the word out that Gen and Danni are his, and I gotta ask Jensen, is that true? Is he really in a relationship with both of them?”

Jensen found the idea hard to believe, but he gave Reardon a non-committal answer, because if it was keeping the girls safe, it was better if everyone believed it was true. “What about Jared?” he asked. “Jared’s the one who knocked him out.”

Reardon shrugged. “My informant says he’s targeting you.  I guess he respects Jeff too much to go after Jared.”

Or maybe he figured that hurting Jensen would hurt Jared, without the bad publicity of having gone after a do-gooder. After all, the general public wouldn’t give two shits if a whore got worked over, but bash a guy who gives up his time to help feed the homeless and the media would have a field day.

“So what are we talkin’ here?” Jensen asked. “Routine intimidation; harassment and assault; or a bullet to the back of the head?”

“No-one’s saying he wants you dead. You should definitely stay off the streets for as long as possible though; just see your regulars. And try not to cross paths with any of Pellegrino’s goons if you can avoid it.”

“Alright,” Jensen nodded. “Thanks for the heads up. Anything you need?”

Reardon glanced away, thinking. “No big deal, but if you hear about anyone offering cheap Dexies let me know. A pharmaceuticals warehouse got ripped off a couple days ago and we’re waiting for the product to start showing up on the street.”

Jensen said he’d keep his ears open. He left Reardon in the motel room and headed over to the beat.

The corner of N. Highland Avenue and Santa Monica Boulevard was probably the last place he should be hanging out, given the information he’d just received from Reardon, but he was meeting his second Ellie freebie here. Kurt Evans was a corrupt asshole, but he had his own twisted moral code and had actively prevented Jensen from being charged a number of times.

“Pellegrino’s gunnin’ for you,” Kurt gasped, ramming his cock down Jensen’s throat.

Jensen hummed and swallowed and raised an eyebrow in query.

“He wants you worked over, bad enough to land you in hospital, but nothing permanent. That’s what I’m hearin’ anyway. You might wanna lay low for a while.”

Kurt came and Jensen sucked him through it before pulling off and removing the condom. He threw it over Kurt’s shoulder, into the dumpster he was leaning against.

“Thanks,” Jensen said, looking away and giving Kurt space to tuck himself in. “Anything you need?”

Kurt shook his head. “And another thing, just FYI, we’re doing a sweep, day after tomorrow.”

Jensen raised his eyebrows. “Another one? It’s less than a month since the pre Oscars sweep. What is it this time?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Some big trade fair thing. Lots of international dignitaries comin’ in. The Mayor’s freaked about ‘em being ‘confronted’ by the homeless and the street trade,” he frowned. “No offense.”

Jensen grinned. “Aw baby, I take pride in being confronting, you know that,” he stood up straight and gave Kurt a nod. “Alrighty, places to be and all that. Good to see you again.  And thanks. I appreciate the intel,” he turned to walk away and Kurt put a hand to his shoulder.  Jensen froze and then turned back to face the vice cop, his eyes widening when he saw the fifty dollar bill in Kurt’s hand. “You don’t pay, remember?”

Kurt shook his head. “It’s cab fare. And I’m gonna stand here and watch until you get into a cab.”

Jensen gaped at him and Kurt sighed. “I’m not a complete asshole. Pellegrino’s guys know your stroll. Meeting you here? Bad move on my part. Hail a cab, get in, and go straight to your next appointment. Then stick to your regulars and stay away from the beat until Pellegrino loses interest, okay?”

Jensen gave a brief nod. He stood at the edge of the sidewalk with his arm in the air until a cab pulled over, all the while feeling Kurt's watchful eyes on him. The sense of warmth and protection he felt, knowing that the cop had his back, was definitely worth all the free blow jobs he’d given him over the years.


	3. Chapter 3

**J** ared hadn’t meant to stay for a week. He hadn’t even brought any clothes. Not that it really mattered, because his old room was full of his old clothes. Most of the pants were a bit too short now, but he didn’t care; it wasn’t like he was going to go out in public in them.

Being back in his old bedroom was strange. It had been his home; his sanctuary for a long time, but as he looked around now, Jared could find no trace of himself in the room. Except maybe in the few well-thumbed books that had somehow managed to be enjoyable, while at the same time surviving Nanny’s scrutiny. Huckleberry Finn had been a particular favorite and Jared picked it up now and settled himself on his bed, pillows propped up behind him.

Jared had stayed a week because his family had needed him. His mom had fired the nanny and had then asked Jared to help her talk to his siblings. And what a fun conversation that had been.  Mom had explained about the whole fame thing first and Jared had been surprised by how angry his siblings were at _him_. Because he’d found out first and hadn’t told them.

“Mom and Dad asked me not to say anything!” Jared protested.

But that was only part of the truth. He’d been out. And he hadn’t wanted to come back. He’d let his siblings down and only time would tell how badly.

 After Mom had haltingly and tearfully explained what Dad was accused of doing and told them that he wouldn’t be living with them anymore she’d let the kids ask questions: Who would get the house? Could they move to a new house? Could they go to school? Could they watch some of her movies? Would they have to see Dad again?

This last question from Raisa, Jared found troubling.

Later, when they all went their separate ways he followed her to her room and knocked on the door.

“Come in,”

Jared pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold. Raisa’s room wasn’t all that different from his own. They’d never been allowed to personalize their rooms; no art or posters on the walls, nothing ornamental or ostentatious. No brightly colored quilts or pillows. Jared frowned as he looked around. That was going to change. No kid should have to live in a room this dull.

“What’s up, Jare?” Raisa said. She was sitting on her bed reading; like him she was an avid reader, devouring both fiction and non-fiction eagerly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For abandoning you guys.”

Raisa sniffed. “Yeah, well. I get it. You got out,” she shrugged. “Not sure I’d have wanted to come back either. You think Mom will let us out now?”

 Jared nodded. “Yeah. I think she’s gonna make some big changes.”

Raisa put her open book down, spine up. “You think she’d let me do ballet? You don’t think I’m too old do you?”

Jared raised an eyebrow. “You’re twelve.”

“Yeah. I should’ve stared at eight.”

Jared went and sat down next to his sister on the bed. “Raisa, I need to ask you a question. You know how you asked Mom if we’d have to see Dad again? Well, I was wondering why you put it like that. Do you a special reason why you don’t want to see him again?”

Raisa shook her head and then shrugged. “He makes Mom unhappy. She’s more fun when he’s not around.”

“So he’s never…been inappropriate?”

Raisa stared at him.

“You know, he’s never…touched you?”

“Of course he has. He’s my Dad!”

Jared ran a hand over his face, thoroughly embarrassed.

“No, I mean…he’s never…tried to have sex with you, right?”

“Eww!” Raisa scrunched up her face. “That’s gross!” She reached across and punched Jared’s arm. “Of course he hasn’t! He’s my Dad!”

Jared had an even more excruciating conversation with the twins, Ilona and Elena; they were sixteen and understood pretty quickly what he was getting at, but played dumb just to watch him blush and squirm.

Elena finally took pity on him.

“Relax, Jare, he’s never done anything like that with us,” she looked at him thoughtfully. “So, now that you’re not gonna be a priest…have you kissed any pretty girls?”

Jared shook his head.

“Why not?” Ilona demanded. “When I get outta here, I’m gonna kiss every hot boy I can get my hands on!”

Jared rubbed a hand across his mouth. “Uh yeah,” he said. “Me too. Or one anyway.”

The twins stared at him.

“You want to…kiss…a…boy?” Elena said uncertainly.

Jared nodded.

“Why?”

Jared shrugged. “I’m not attracted to girls. I’m attracted to other guys.”

Elena’s mouth pursed. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be,” she said. “I’m sure there’s something in Leviticus about lying with a man as you would a woman being an abomination.”

“Sixty-seven things are an abomination according to the Bible,” Jared said, “including eating shellfish, the love of money and women wearing trousers. If we’re going to take the Bible literally, we’ll have to start executing every materialistic girl who goes to a clambake wearing jeans.”

Elena frowned. “What does the Pope say?”

“Do you think God makes mistakes?” Jared asked.

Elena shook her head.

“Then what does it matter what the Pope says? I’m the way God made me; and that includes my attraction to guys.”

“Well I don’t care,” Ilona flicked her hair. “I think it’s hot,” she giggled. “Have you got a boyfriend, Jared?”

“Maybe?”

“Does Mom know?” Elena interjected.

“Yep. And she’s happy for me.”

Elena harrumphed.

Ilona dug her fingers into Jared’s ribs. “What d’you mean ‘maybe’?”

Jared glanced at Elena, who frowned at him. “I don’t think we’re official yet,” he turned back to Ilona, “but we’ve been on a date. And we’ve kissed. A few times.”

Ilona squealed and Elena glared and left the room. Ilona poked her tongue out at her twin. “She’s such a prude! Tell me everything!”  

Ilona’s acceptance of him was a blessing. And Elena? Jared understood where she was coming from; she was worried about his soul. Jared hoped she’d come around, but either way, he knew she loved him.

Jared shifted on his bed. Not for the first time, he wondered how Jensen was doing. The night they’d spent together had played a starring role in all his fantasies since and on the third night back home he’d even managed to relax enough to jerk off in the shower, the picture of Jensen’s expressive green eyes, pupils dilated, clear in his mind.  

Jared wished he could call him up, just to listen to his deep melodic voice, but he didn’t have his own cell phone and his mom had already mentioned her fear that his father’s lawyers might pull her phone records to try to find something they could use to smear her—he couldn’t risk a call to a male hooker showing up in them.

A knock on Jared’s door drew him out of his book. He called out for his visitor to come in and was surprised when it was Dosu. His fourteen-year-old brother had taken his disappearance from the family harder than anyone; not surprising, perhaps; they’d been close.

“Elena and Ilona are fighting about you,” his brother said, sauntering over to the white wicker chair in the corner and throwing himself onto it in a sprawl. “Elena says you’re going to Hell. And Ilona says she’s a stupid brainwashed prude who should try reading some of the stuff you showed her on the internet.”

Crap. Jared sat up straighter and put his book down. He chewed on his thumbnail, his brow furrowed. “Do you think I should go and, you know, referee?”

Dosu shrugged. “Everything’s been really weird since you came back,” he said, and there was definitely accusation in his tone.

“I guess there have been a lot of changes. The thing with Dad. Mom firing Nanny.”

“And you,” Dosu said. “You were gone and Mom and Dad were so proud because you were gonna be a priest. And now you’re back and you’re not gonna be a priest and the twins are arguing over whether you’re going to Hell or not and Elena says Dad’s definitely going to Hell and…and…Ilona showed me some stuff on the internet that you showed her and…nothing is what I thought it was! And you already knew that and you didn’t tell me!” the pitch of his little brother’s voice got higher and higher as he spoke, breaking at the end of his rant in that annoying way that Jared remembered from his own puberty.

“I’m sorry,” Jared said, “I was a dick.”

Dosu gaped at him and then sniggered. “You’ve changed a lot. You seem happier. More relaxed,” he tilted his head to one side and regarded Jared solemnly. “So,” he said, “I hear you like kissing boys.”

“Does that bother you?”

Dosu shrugged. “It’s kind of weird. You can’t marry another boy. And they don’t have boobs.”

“I don’t really like boobs.”

Dosu gaped at him. “See, I don’t get that. Boobs are…” he made a squishing gesture with his hands. “Boobs are nice. Especially big ones.”

Jared raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Dosu said defensively. “I saw a few commercials for Baywatch before Nanny switched stations.”

   Jared grinned at him. “Liking boobs is perfectly normal,” he said. “Most people are straight,” when Dosu looked puzzled he elaborated, but tried to keep it simple. “Straight is when guys like girls and girls like guys. Gay is when people like people who are the same sex as them. And Bi-sexual is when people like either sex.”

Dosu pursed his lips thoughtfully. “So you’re gay?”

Jared nodded.

“And Elena thinks you’re going to Hell because you like other guys?”

“Um,” Jared ran a hand through his hair. “There are parts of the Bible that have been traditionally interpreted as supporting that view. But I don’t think they’re right. I don’t really want to get into a full-on theological debate right now, but essentially, I just don’t believe that God makes mistakes. I gave Ilona some websites to look at. I can show them to you too if you’re interested.”

Dosu screwed up his nose. “Are those the websites she was talking about with the guys kissing and stuff? Because she might think it’s hot, but I don’t wanna see that.”

“ _What_?  Guys kissing? She’s looking at… I didn’t...” Jared scrambled to his feet and took off. “Ilona! What have you been looking at on the internet?”

\--

Jensen showered and re-dressed quickly and efficiently.

His appointments with Dan always left him feeling well-used and slightly drunk and he preferred to go straight home afterwards, if possible. Tonight he could, because Chris had managed to land himself an overnighter.

Pasting on his sultry professional smile, Jensen sauntered out into the bedroom where Dan was sitting propped up, bare-chested, in bed, his black silk sheets twisted around his waist.

Dan grinned at him. “Freshly-fucked is a good look on you, Jenny.”

Jensen kept the professional smile fixed on his face and didn’t roll his eyes. He leaned in for the obligatory goodbye kiss and skillfully palmed the cash that Dan had left for him on the bedside table. Dan didn’t like to see the transaction part of the evening so they’d perfected this routine over the years.

“Same time next week?” Jensen murmured, looking up demurely from beneath his eyelashes.

“You betcha.”

As Jensen began to pull away, Dan grabbed his wrist. “Sit for a moment, sweetheart” he said.

Jensen clamped down on the momentary panic that being grabbed had caused ( _Dan was safe; Dan wouldn’t hurt him_ ) and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, giving Dan what he hoped was an interested, not a ‘what the fuck’, smile.

“Your name came up in court today,” the ADA said.

Jensen licked his lips. “The Pellegrino thing.”

Dan reached forward and gently cupped Jensen’s face and Jensen very nearly flinched away from him. The job was done; he’d had his shower; he’d done the kiss-him- get-the-money thing and now he was supposed to be getting out of here; the client was _not_ supposed to be touching him any more.

“You need to be careful,” Dan said.

“I know.”

Dan sighed. “You’re a bright, attractive kid, Jen. You could be so much more than this. Why are you still doing it?”

Jensen stood up and gave Dan his best shit-eating grin. “The pay’s good and the benefits package is awesome. We even get Dental, you know.”

Dan’s lips thinned. “Let’s hope you don’t need it,” he said. He held Jensen’s gaze for a moment and then sighed again. “I’ll see you in a week, sweetheart. You stay safe.”

Outside on the sidewalk, Jensen lit a cigarette and called a cab. He’d just been well-paid for great sex. Fuck Dan for getting all ‘concerned citizen’ on his ass. He hated when clients did that. Jensen drew back on his cigarette. It wasn’t like he did much street work anymore; it was almost all booked appointments nowadays. He got to pick and choose who he fucked and he didn’t do anything he didn’t want to. Mostly. Okay, sometimes he did stuff he didn’t _really_ like, but only because the client paid him a hell of a lot of money. For the most part, he was being paid awesome money to have a lot of sex.  So what was the big deal? What was it that clients like Dan—and Sebastian—thought they were going to save him from? Jensen wasn’t a victim. He was treated well by his clients. He enjoyed his work. Mostly. And he was a guy with a plan. He would quit hooking when _he_ was ready to quit hooking.

Jensen was too irritated to go straight home now, so he told the cab driver to head out to the warehouse squat on West Sunset; now seemed as good a time as any to pass on Kurt’s info about the sweep to Gino.

Gino, the guy who ran the squat, was a part Italian, part African American Gulf War veteran in his late forties. These days he called himself an entrepreneur and spent his days selling designer label knocks-offs to tourists on Hollywood Boulevard.  

“Dean, my man!” Gino got up from the grubby, torn mattress where he’d been sitting smoking a very large spliff and loped toward Jensen.  They did the handshake, back slap thing and then Gino handed Jensen the spliff.

“How you been, kid?”

Jensen drew deeply on the spliff and then handed it back.

“Can’t complain. Everything okay here?”

Gino put an arm around Jensen and guided him over to the mattress.

“Come into my office.”

Jensen sat down, avoiding stains and springs as much as possible, and leaned back against the wall.  As they passed the spliff between them, Gino gave Jensen a run down on life in the squat and they talked about people they both knew, updating each other on who’d died, who was in prison, who’d got clean, who’d relapsed, who’d gone home, who’d gone up in the world and who’d gone down.

“So, not that it ain’t great to see you, but is there anything you wanted in particular?” Gino finally asked.

Jensen shifted, stretching his legs out in front of himself and tugging up the collar of his leather jacket. “Just wanted to let you know that there’s gonna be another sweep, day after tomorrow. Something to do with some big trade fair. You might wanna warn everyone, keep ‘em off the streets as much as possible.”

Gino snorted. “Douchebags want the ‘roaches swept under the rug, huh?”

Jensen shrugged. He got his smokes out and lit up, offering the pack to Gino.

“By the way,” said Gino as he lit his own cigarette, “Your girl’s not doin’ so good.”

Jensen frowned. “Girl? What girl?”

“Red hair? Calls herself Charlie?”

“Charlie? I don’t know a Charlie.”

“Well she turned up a week ago. Asked for me by name and told me that Dean sent her.”

Jensen’s eyes widened. “Oh. Flick. The crack addict.”

Gino nodded. “She’s tryin’ a get clean.”

“Good for her.”

“Yeah. Only she ain’t earnin’ no money right now.”

Jensen stilled and then gave Gino a hard look.

“You’re not gonna kick her out,” he said.

Gino shrugged. “She ain’t contributing. You know the rules. Gonna live here, you gotta contribute somehow. All she’s doin’ is lyin’ on one of my mattresses, shiverin’ and shakin’ and barfin’.”

“Fuck,” Jensen rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

“She got her white knight standin’ over her,” Gino said, ‘so ain’t nobody takin’ advantage, but still. She gotta contribute.”

“White Knight?” Jensen raised an eyebrow.

“Kid called Kevin. And when I say kid…he can’t be more’n twelve.”

_Twelve_? Jensen swallowed thickly. Oh, somebody was getting punched.

Gino held his hands up, palms out. “Whoa, cool it, man. You know I ain’t a pimp and you know I ain’t into little kids. He ain’t hookin’ anyway. He’s a street performer. Does fire eatin’ and sword swallowin’ and all this acrobatic shit for the tourists. Brings in okay money. Not enough to cover for Charlie, but enough that he don’t have to bend over for no-one.”

Jensen nodded. “Where are they?”

“Your old mattress.”

Jensen headed to the back corner of the candle-lit warehouse, past decades old graffiti, mattresses and sofas, and curtained-off areas. He got a couple of half-hearted business propositions; a girl offered to suck his dick for twenty bucks and a stoned fat guy grabbed at his own crotch and crowed ‘I’ve got something good for you to suck, Pretty Boy.’ Jensen ignored them both, not even slowing down until he got to a section of wall which had a large drawing of a penis on it, along with the words:  ‘Will suck dick 4 Speed’ and an arrow pointing down at the mattress.

He saw the kid first and Jesus Christ, Gino hadn’t been kidding. He was a scrawny little scrap of a thing, Asian with long, floppy black hair and reflexes like a cat. Which Jensen knew because said kid was suddenly right in his face and he hadn’t even seen him move.

“What do you want?” the kid demanded.

“Checkin’ on Flick. I met her down at _Per vias rectas_ a couple weeks back, suggested she come here,” he held out a hand. “The name’s Dean.”

“Kevin,” said the kid as he shook Jensen’s hand.

“Really?”

The kid shrugged. “No, not really. But it’s what you can call me.”

“Right,” Jensen said. “But _Kevin_? Seriously?”

The kid stared at him. “Yeah,” he said. “Kevin. I was inspired by that movie, _Home Alone_. It fits right? Cuz that’s me. Only without the home.”

“Fuck,” Jensen got his smokes out and flicked one up into his mouth before offering the pack to Kevin.

Kevin raised an eyebrow. “Dude,” he said reproachfully, “you did not just offer a cigarette to a fourteen year old.”

Jensen snatched the pack back and put it away. “No. I didn’t. I was…uh…just…stretching my arm. So. Fourteen, huh?”

“Yeah. And if this is the ‘you should go back home, it can’t have been so bad that this is better’ part of the conversation, then screw you. You don’t know shit.”

Jensen shrugged. “I used to be you,” he said. “So yeah, I do know shit.”

Flick chose that moment to groan and Kevin was by her side in a flash. “You okay? You need some water?”

“Hurts,” Flick said. “Can’t do it.”

Jensen knelt down by her side. “Yes you can,” he said.

Flick cracked open an eye. She looked from him to Kevin and back again. “Pretty Boy?” she said. “Is he really here, Kevin?”

Kevin snorted. “If you mean, Dean, then, yeah, he’s really here.”

“I’m tryin’ a do what you said,” Flick slurred, her eyes falling shut again. “But it’s too hard.” She was racked by a sudden fit of coughing and then she began to shiver violently, despite the sweat that was soaking her body.

“Bucket,” said Jensen and Kevin passed him a cracked plastic salad bowl that was already a quarter full of vomit.

“Gross,” he held his breath and then helped Flick lean over the bowl, holding her greasy, stringy hair out of the way while she heaved up a surprising amount of watery bile; surprising, because she felt so skeletal in his arms.

She fell back against him once she was done throwing up and started to cry.

“S’too hard,” she said between sobs, “too hard.”

Jensen rubbed her back. “You’re doing great,” he said. “And I promise you it’s worth it.”

He looked up to find Kevin staring at him and noticed the dark circles under the kid’s eyes.

“How many days?” he asked, nodding at Flick.

“Five.”

Jensen nodded. So she should be detoxed in another couple days. Kevin, though, looked like he’d been awake for most of that time and…fuck…Jensen sighed. He was going to regret this, he knew he was.

“Alright, kid,” he handed Kevin the bucket of vomit. “Go get rid of that and then do whatever you gotta do before bed.”

Kevin just kept staring.

“Go on,” Jensen said. “Scoot. It’s way past your bedtime.”

Kevin’s eyes narrowed and then he looked down at Flick and his shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Okay.”

The really good thing about this spot was that it was at the intersection of two walls and there was a metal support pillar right at the end of the mattress. When Chris and Jensen had been sleeping here, they’d fixed ropes between the walls and the support pillar and hung quilts across the ropes to give themselves the illusion of privacy. The quilts had long since gone, but the ropes were still there.  As soon as Kevin left, Jensen unzipped Flick’s sleeping bag and hung it across one of the ropes to dry out. He found a bottle of water and helped her to drink some, before pouring some out onto a ragged bit of towel and wiping her face. “You got something clean and dry to change into?” he asked and Flick’s eyes darted to his, frightened.

“You want me to take my clothes off?”

Jensen sighed. “Even if you weren’t a disgusting mess of sweat and vomit, I still wouldn’t be interested. I’m one hundred percent gay, I promise. So better me than Kevin, right? Cuz he’s probably straight. And he’s a kid.”

Flick nodded tentatively and between them, they got her sponged down and changed into something that wasn’t soaked in sweat and vomit.  

Kevin returned to find Jensen unzipping his sleeping bag.

“Hey! That’s mine.”

“It’s dry,” Jensen said. “And it’s big enough for both of you to fit under when it’s fully unzipped. The body heat from each other will keep you warm too. Here,” he reached out an arm for the now emptied bowl, “give me that. You get some sleep. I’ll keep an eye on Fl…Charlie.”

Kevin eyed him warily. “Why are you doing this?”

It was a fair question and Jensen considered it carefully. “Honestly? Partly because I sent Charlie here, so I kinda feel like she’s my responsibility. But also because I kinda wish there’d been somebody prepared to give me no-strings-attached help when I was your age.”

Kevin nodded; his eyes wide and his lips stretched thin. “It’s the no-strings-attached part that I’m having trouble believing.”

And Jensen got that. In Kevin’s place, he wouldn’t believe him either. In the end he just shrugged. “Can you at least believe that you’ve got nothing I want? Just…go to sleep, kid.”

Kevin looked like he wanted to argue, but in the end his own weariness defeated him and he got under the sleeping bag with a sigh and curled himself up next to Charlie.

Jensen settled himself on Charlie’s other side and leaned back against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him, one hand holding the bowl, the other gently stroking Charlie’s forehead. It didn’t escape his attention that he was sitting directly underneath a piece of graffiti that read: ‘Will suck dick 4 speed,’ nor that the arrow was pointing right at his head. He wished he didn’t remember when Chris wrote those words. He wished even more that they hadn’t been true.

\--

Jared had said good bye to his mom and his siblings out on the back verandah, before being escorted back over the monastery wall by the Kevlar-clad security staff.  From there he made his way into Father Michael’s office to wait for Jeff.

Father Michael had the paperwork ready for him to withdraw from the Bachelor of Theology course and as Jared signed off on it, he was a little taken aback by the feeling of sorrow that settled itself deep in his gut. Becoming a priest had been his life plan for so long; what was he going to do now? He wasn’t surprised when Father Michael put voice to the question.

“I think I want to work for Jeff,” Jared answered. “Or someone else who does that kind of work. I guess I need social work for that?”

Father Michael nodded thoughtfully.  “You could certainly transfer to a Bachelor of Social Work. You have the grades. And the volunteer work will help too. Where are you planning to live while you do all this? Jeff was putting you up as a favor to the Church. There’s no guarantee he’ll be willing to continue that now.”

It hadn’t even occurred to Jared that he might not be welcome to stay with Jeff now that he was no longer with the Church. He swallowed and gave Father Michael a tenuous smile. “I guess I’ll have to sort that out.”

Jeff, when he arrived, was in a hurry and Jared felt bad for putting him out. He should’ve just caught the bus.

When Jared said as much, Jeff just grinned. “Don’t sweat it, kid. Besides, I figure we probably need to talk, so the drive gives us time.”

“Right,” Jared rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, a habit he’d picked up from Jensen. “So, uh. The room I’m staying in? Can I rent it from you? I’ve got money. Mom and Dad set up an account for me when I joined the Church and Mom just put a whole heap of money into it for me, so I can pay, I promise. Father Michael says you’re only letting me stay as a favor to the Church and it’s okay if you don’t want to rent it to me, I’m sure I can figure something else out if I—”     

“Whoa!” Jeff held a hand out. “Breathe, Jared. Yes, you can rent the room. You’re a good kid, we’ve enjoyed having you.  You’re welcome to keep volunteering too, but we can’t pay you; we just don’t have the budget.”

“Thank you,” Jared beamed. “Thank you so much, Jeff! I really appreciate this.”

Jeff grinned. “I know you do, kid. So tell me, how did everything go with your family?”

Jared drummed his fingers against his thigh. “Well. Elena thinks I’m going to Hell. But everyone else seems…cautiously happy for me,” he ran a hand across his mouth. “Dosu asked me a whole bunch of questions about sex—regular sex, with girls—because he’s fourteen and he’s never had any sex ed. It was so embarrassing. I tried to be all matter-of-fact like you are, but he was looking at me like I was some kind of expert, and I really don’t know anything. And then he asked me how gay guys do it,” Jared covered his face with his hands.

“Did you tell him?”

Jared nodded. “And he said it sounded gross. Jeff,” Jared peaked out from between his fingers. “I’m not even sure if _I_ want to do that. You know, go all the way with another guy. It sounds awkward. And messy.”

“It’s not compulsory. You can stick to other forms of sexual gratification if you prefer. As I understand it, not all gay couples have anal sex.”

Jared dropped his hands from his face, but kept his head down, his bangs hiding his face almost as effectively. “It’s just…Jensen likes sex. He told me he does. And…even though he says it’s not that important...maybe he’s just being nice?”

“Or maybe it’s not that important to him. Communication is important in relationships,” Jeff said. “You need to talk to Jensen about this stuff and you need to be honest about how you feel.” Jeff cleared his throat. “So your mom was okay? When you told her that you’re gay?”

“Yeah,” Jared nodded. “She was supportive, which is good.” Jared paused. “Jeff, the others were all pretty angry with me because I knew the truth about Mom and Dad and I didn’t tell them,” he frowned. “I didn’t tell you either. Did you know? You know, _before_ all the drama?”

Jeff hadn’t known, not until Father Michael had called him in the middle of the night to warn him about Jared’s father’s arrest. The priest had been surprised that Jared hadn’t told Jeff himself, and he told Jared as much now. Jared pulled a face.

“It feels awkward. ‘Hi, I’m Jared. My parents are famous movie stars. Nice to meet you.’ I didn’t even know myself for most of my life.” He drummed nervously on his thigh again. “Do you think I should tell Jensen?”

Jeff pursed his lips. “Yeah. Probably.”

Jared sighed and leaned back against the head rest. “I don’t want to,” he said plaintively. “He’s sketchy enough about dating me as it is. If I tell him who my parents are, he’s gonna run a hundred miles in the other direction, I know he is.”

“It’s up to you, of course,” Jeff said, “but if you want a relationship to work, it’s usually a good idea to be honest about everything right from the start.”

Jared knew that Jeff was right, he did. He also knew that if Jensen found out that Jared had famous parents he would decide he was more trouble than Jared needed and their fledgling relationship would be history. And Jared just couldn’t take that risk.

“He’s been worried about you, you know,” Jeff said. “And a little upset that you haven’t been in touch.”

“I couldn’t,” Jared said. “I couldn’t risk a call to a hooker showing up in Mom’s phone records. But I’ll call him as soon as we get back to your place.”

  --

There was a crick in Jensen’s neck, and hair in his mouth and over his face, and where the Hell was he lying, because the mattress was lumpy as fuck. Jensen clawed the long hair out of his mouth and groaned at Chris to move his drunk ass.

“Who’s Chris?” mumbled a decidedly female voice and Jensen hauled himself upright and looked straight into the very amused eyes of an Asian kid who was standing on the other side of the mattress. Where Jensen had been lying. Next to Charlie. At the squat.

Jensen cleared his throat and rubbed at his neck.

“Guess I fell asleep,” he glanced down at Charlie who was still mostly asleep.

The kid—Kevin—was drinking water out of a bottle. “S’alright,” he shrugged. “Seems like she had a good night,” his lips twisted. “Which means she’s probably feeling a bit better. Which means she’ll probably want to go out and score when she wakes up.”

Jensen rolled forward onto his knees and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “Here,” he handed Kevin a fifty dollar bill. “Go over to McDonalds and get us breakfast. I’ll have a bacon and egg McMuffin and a black coffee. Get whatever you want for you and Charlie.”

Kevin stared at the money and then looked up at Jensen, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not sucking your dick,” he said. “And Charlie isn’t either.”

Jensen sighed and waved the bill at him. “Fine. Just get us some food, okay?”

Kevin took the money grudgingly and backed away, not turning his back on Jensen until the last possible moment.

Jensen settled himself back on the mattress and looked down at Charlie who was properly awake now and staring up at him with big brown eyes.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Charlie shrugged. “Tired. Emotional. Anxious. I ache, like, everywhere,” she hauled herself up into a sitting position and then leaned back against the wall, next to Jensen.  “I feel really anxious, Dean. Like, really, really anxious.” Charlie wrapped her arms around her body and shivered. “I think I should probably have just a small hit. Just to take the edge off so I don’t feel so anxious. And then I can concentrate properly on getting better.”

Jensen put an arm around her shoulders. “Kevin’s gonna bring you some coffee,” he said.

Fat, silent tears began to spill from Charlie’s eyes. “I can’t do this,” she said. “Everything hurts. And everything sucks. And I kinda wanna smash your face in right now only I haven’t got the energy and…I just want it to stop,” Charlie fisted her hands in Jensen’s tee-shirt. “Make it stop,” she said. “Please make it stop.”

“It gets better,” Jensen said. “I’m not gonna lie, you’re in for a rough couple of years. But if you stay strong, it will get better. I promise.”

Charlie began to cry in earnest then and Jensen held her close and stroked her hair and murmured platitudes just like Danneel had done for him when he’d gone through withdrawal.

When Kevin arrived with breakfast, Jensen ate his McMuffin in two bites and then sipped gratefully at his coffee. Kevin had apparently eaten his breakfast on the walk back from McDonalds and Charlie turned green just at the smell of the food so Kevin ate her hotcakes too. She did manage some coffee though.

“I gotta go earn some money,” Kevin said when he’d finished, brushing crumbs off his jeans and standing up.

Charlie perked up. “I should get going too. Head on down to the corner; see if I can bring home some cash.”

“Oh no,” said Jensen. “I know exactly what you’re planning on bringing home and I’m not gonna let you do it,” he met Kevin’s eyes. “I can stay. I’m not working again until tonight.”

Charlie punched him. “I hate you!” she tried to claw at his eyes, “Why don’t you just go away and leave us alone! We don’t want you! We don’t need you! We don’t—”

Jensen managed to get ahold of her arms and pin her down. Charlie screamed and screamed and nobody came to see if she was alright. Jensen felt sick. He was on top of Charlie, holding her down, and nobody cared. He glanced up at Kevin who looked like he was about to start crying. “It’s okay,” he said. “She’ll calm down in a minute. I’m not hurting her.”

Charlie went limp and started crying again, this time with some begging thrown in for good measure.

“It’s alright, kid,” Jensen said to Kevin. “I got this.”

Kevin nodded and began to move away, but stopped when Jensen called out to him. “Hang on a sec,” Jensen pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket and wrote his address and cell phone number on the McMuffin wrapper. “If you guys need anything, feel free to come over or call me. But just you two, alright?”

After Kevin left, Gino strolled over for a visit. “I got cops to bribe so we don’t get kicked outta here,” he said to Charlie. “You gotta kick in, Girl, or you can’t stay.”

“I understand,” Charlie tried to stand up, but Jensen held onto her arm.

“How much?” he asked Gino.

“Fifty bucks for last week, fifty bucks for next week.”

Jensen handed over a hundred dollars, wordlessly.

Gino grinned and tipped his cap, before sauntering away again.

“Why are you doing this?” Charlie asked.

Jensen shrugged. He didn’t really have a good answer. “Just…paying it forward, I guess.”


	4. Chapter 4

**J** eff parked the car and then hurried into _Per vias rectas_ to run an NA meeting, leaving Jared to wander upstairs to the apartment.

He grabbed the handset from the telephone cradle on the wall in between the kitchen and the living room, and then sat on his blue-patterned quilt, chewing on his bottom lip.

He needed to call Jensen. He _wanted_ to call Jensen. But he hated calling his cell phone like a client wanting to make a booking, and he wasn’t sure what he should tell him either. Not the truth. No matter what Jeff said, in this case telling the whole truth would be a disaster. But maybe he could stick as close to it as possible.

Jensen answered on the third ring.

“Hi. It’s me. Jared. Can you talk?”

“Hey Jared, what’s up?”

Jensen’s tone was cool and Jared swallowed nervously. Jensen was upset with him. Or maybe he was with someone. Or about to be with someone. Or maybe he’d just finished being with someone. Jared took a deep breath.

“I can call back?” he said tentatively. “If now’s not a good time.”  

“Now’s fine.” Jensen’s voice was still flat and indifferent.

“Are you mad at me?” Jared blurted.

“Why would I be mad?”

“You sound upset.”

“Look…just say what you’ve gotta say, alright?”

“Okay,” Jared paused. “My parents are splitting up.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Jensen?”

“Your parents are splitting up?”

“Yeah. My dad cheated on my mom. Mom was really upset. She needed me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jensen said. His tone had thawed a little, but he still didn’t sound happy. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I wanted to. Every day. But I couldn’t.”

“Right,” Jensen said, his voice suddenly much brighter. “Because your family are like, Amish, or something aren’t they? No modern stuff.”

“Not exactly. They over-protected all us kids, home-schooled us, wouldn’t let us use the internet, or watch much television, but _we_ do have all that stuff. I couldn’t call you because… You remember me telling you my parents are pretty rich?”

“Yep.”

“When rich people split up it can get really nasty. And my dad…to put it bluntly, he’s an asshole. If a call to a…” he paused. “This is so embarrassing. Look…you know what your job is…and if a call to…someone like you…showed up in my mom’s phone records, my dad would use it to embarrass her in the divorce.”

 Jensen said that he understood and Jared was pleased to hear that his voice was no longer distant and detached. “So you’re not mad anymore?”

“I wasn’t mad,” Jensen insisted.

Jared harrumphed.

“Okay, maybe a little,” Jensen conceded.

“I missed you,” Jared said. “I didn’t like being away from you.”

“Yeah? So this is a booty call?”

“A what?”

Jensen laughed. “You wanna come over tonight? I have to work, but I should be home by ten.”

Jared said he’d be there.

\--

There was no one home when Jared arrived at Jensen’s place, so he sat on the threadbare brown carpet outside his apartment, leaning against the door. 

Twenty-something minutes later Jensen appeared at the top of the stairs. He was wearing black jeans and a white button-down shirt and looked every bit as gorgeous as Jared remembered. He looked tired, Jared thought, but his smile was the genuine one that reached his eyes.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as Jared stood up to greet him. “I was down in Santa Monica and there was an accident on the 405. My cab got stuck in traffic.”

Jared couldn’t help himself; he reached out and pulled Jensen into a hug. “I missed you.”

Jensen held himself stiffly for a moment and then relaxed into Jared’s arms.

“C’mon,” Jensen cleared his throat. “Let’s get inside.”

Jensen made them coffee and put the television on. They sat together on the steel-grey sofa and Jensen lit a Marlboro and then leaned back with a sigh, propping his feet up on the black plastic coffee table.

“Long day?” Jared asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, and then launched into a story about a drug addicted girl called Charlie and some kid called Kevin.

“Kevin’s _fourteen_?” Jared echoed questioningly, trying not to sound as shocked as he felt.

“So he says. But he looks real young.”

“Do you think Jeff and Sam could help him?”

Jensen shrugged. “Maybe. He’s not real trusting. Which probably means he’s got a good reason not to be real trusting.”

Jared was contemplating what horrors the kid may have lived through when his attention was snatched by the mention of his mother’s name on the television. He turned just in time to see his mom and all the kids hurrying out of a black stretch limousine and toward his grandparent’s ranch house. They were surrounded by a pack of microphone-carrying journalists, who the Kevlar-clad security guys were valiantly trying to keep at arm’s length. The anchor explained in hushed tones that in the wake of her husband’s arrest for soliciting an underage prostitute, Catherine J Monaghan had taken her children to stay with her parents in Texas.  

_“Insiders have mentioned previously that Thomas Gibson Garcia does not get along with his in-laws,”_ said the anchor _, “so this visit could well be seen as a snub to him; a drawing of battle lines if you will.”_

_“Catherine! Catherine! Is it true that you’ve asked your husband to move out of the family home?”_

_“How are you coping Catherine?”_

_“It’s a nightmare,”_ Jared heard his mother say to the journalists surrounding her, _“and I don’t want to talk about it, especially in front of the children. They’re my priority in all this. We’re going to be spending some much needed time processing all this with my family and I ask that you respect our privacy.”_

Jensen snorted. “Good on her. I hope she did kick him out. Thomas Gibson Garcia’s an asshole.”

Jared turned to look at him. “You don’t, uh, know him, do you?”

Jensen frowned. “The dude’s famous. I don’t live under a rock, you know.”

“No. I mean…you don’t _know_ him, uh, professionally? Your profession?”

Jensen expression cleared. “Oh. Yeah, no. He’s strictly into chicks. Likes ‘em young and impressionable.”

Jared’s stomach dropped. “And you know this, how?”

“I’ve worked a few parties that he’s been at. He’s into the whole ‘pure virgin’ thing. Doesn’t like his whores to look like whores, you know?”

“What a hypocrite,” Jared said faintly.

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded. “The hardcore Christians are always the worst. I won’t take those douchebags as clients.”

Jared watched Jensen take a final drag on his cigarette and then crush it into the stainless steel ashtray. “Jensen?” he said hesitantly, “I’m a Christian.”

Jensen stared at him. “You’re not a client.”

“No, I know. But…you seem to have a real problem with Christians.”

“I have a problem with hypocrites. You’re struggling with all this; with your faith and your sexuality. You’re not fucking fourteen-year-old hookers one week and ranting publicly about sin the next.”

Jared took a sip of his coffee. The news anchor had moved onto another story now and Jared closed his eyes briefly. His mom sure had it right. This was a nightmare. There was no way Jensen would even consider a relationship with Jared if Jared’s family knew what Jensen did for a living. Jensen was working towards a fresh start and if Jared wanted to be part of that, he had to help the older man put his past behind him. How was that going to work if Jared’s father recognized Jensen as a prostitute?  

“Hey,” Jensen leaned in to him, his breath whispering against Jared’s cheek and his hand settling on his thigh. “I can _hear_ you thinking. You’re not freaking out again, are you?”

Jared turned his head and captured the other’s man’s lips in a soft kiss.

“Maybe a little,” he confessed. “It’s just…my faith is important to me. And you…”

“Don’t have any faith,” Jensen finished the sentence. “Not in some magical, all-seeing, all-knowing sky God anyway.”  He began toying with his lighter, biting on his bottom lip, with his gaze studiously averted from Jared. “Did you, uh, tell your family? About the gay thing?”

“Yeah. My mom doesn’t care. If I’m happy, she’s happy. My dad’ll probably disown me. I think I mentioned that he’s an asshole?”

Jensen grinned. “Once or twice. You wanna make out?”

“Okay,” the word was barely out of Jared’s mouth before Jensen was straddling his lap and taking his face in his hands. Jensen smelled of cigarettes and sandalwood and when he was up close like this Jared could see his freckles.

“You’re so…symmetrical,” Jared said and Jensen laughed.

“That’s a new one.”

Jared covered his face with his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m such a…a dork.”

“Nah,” Jensen peeled his hands away from his face and kissed him lightly on the lips. “You’re adorkable.”

Jared pouted. “Don’t tease me.”

Jensen ground his ass against Jared’s lap and Jared groaned.

“It’s only teasing if I don’t plan on following through,” Jensen said matter-of-factly. He swiveled and flexed and grinned at Jared’s growing arousal. “And I plan on following through.” He leaned forward and claimed Jared’s mouth. Jensen tasted like coffee and tobacco but Jared didn’t mind, so long as his lips and his tongue kept up the soft pressure that was going straight to Jared’s groin. He moaned into the kiss and Jensen got a hand up underneath Jared’s shirt and started playing with a nipple.  Jared moaned again and spread his legs, thrusting up against Jensen’s ass.

Jensen broke off the kiss, his green eyes wide, his pupils huge and his body language, suddenly, completely different. “Want me to ride your cock, baby?” he said, his voice sultry and knowing.

Jared didn’t know if he wanted penetrative sex, ever, as either the top or the bottom, but that wasn’t the biggest problem here; the biggest problem was that the guy who’d just propositioned him _wasn’t Jensen_.

That had been Dean.

“Jared? Breathe. Fuck. Sorry. Too much?” Jensen was back.

Jared sucked in air and then gripped Jensen’s wrists. “Two weeks ago I hadn’t even been kissed,” he said. “I don’t know what I want yet, sexually, but I do know that I want _you_ , Jensen. Not Dean.”

“What?” Jensen’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ve seen you work, when I’ve been helping at the coffee van. When you’re Dean, everything changes; your voice, your body language. That wasn’t you just now. That’s not how Jensen talks, how he moves. That was Dean.”

“Hate to break it to you, buddy, but Jensen and Dean are the same person.”

Jared shook his head. “You’re Jensen. Dean’s just an act you put on. I don’t want some act. I want you.”

Jensen climbed off his lap and reached for his cigarettes.

Jared watched him light up and then scooted along the sofa until they were sitting shoulder to shoulder with their knees touching.

“Hey,” he put his hand on Jensen’s thigh. “We don’t have to stop completely, just…”

Jensen drew back on his cigarette and when he spoke his voice was harsh. “Just no acting like a whore. Got it.”

Jared closed his eyes briefly and ran a hand over his forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m messing this up and hurting your feelings and—”

Jensen cut him off with a snort. “I ain’t that delicate, Sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry. This is all new to me.”

Jensen sighed. “Why did you come over tonight?”

“I told you. I missed you. I was hoping that we could hang out some. Maybe watch a movie. Maybe make out a little.”

Jensen crushed out his cigarette. “So really not a booty call.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“Right. I forgot how clueless you are.”

Jared’s eyebrows rose indignantly. “Hey!”

“A booty call’s when you meet up with someone purely for sex.”

Jared stared at Jensen. “And you thought that’s what I wanted?”

Jensen shrugged. “You said you missed me. I dunno, Jare. This is all new to me too. Sex I can do. This relationship stuff?” he shrugged again.

Jared licked at his lips. “Well sex _and_ relationship stuff is new to me,” he said. “But the way I see it, first and foremost, you’re my friend. The kissing and everything is just the icing on the cake.”

For some reason, Jensen didn’t seem to find this reassuring. Instead he looked hurt. “So this is a ‘friends with benefits’ thing for you?”

Jared ran a hand over his mouth. “Okay, pretend for a moment that I grew up in a sheltered environment and don’t know anything about sex, relationships and pop culture references. ‘Friends with benefits’ sounds like a thing. And I don’t know what you mean when you say it. Your _friendship_ is the most important thing to me. The physical stuff is awesome and amazing and I want to keep exploring that. But I would never come over here with some attitude that I was horny and you owed me sex. When I said I missed you, I just meant I missed you. You. My friend, Jensen.”

Jensen tossed his lighter up and down, his eyes lowered and his teeth biting at his bottom lip. “Pretend for a moment that I did a lot of my growing up on the streets and learned that if you’re smart, you gotta expect the worst of people. I guess I forgot how… _real_ you are; that when you say something, that’s exactly what you mean. No hidden motives or whatever.”

He glanced up at Jared, who smiled at him.

“I’m sorry,” Jared said, “if anything I said upset you.”

“Yeah, well,” Jensen put his lighter down and leaned back on the sofa. “I’m sorry I was an asshole. Can we maybe start over?”

“Sure,” said Jared.

Jensen grinned. “Wanna go hang out in my room? We can fix up the fucking tragedy of you never having seen any of the Indiana Jones movies.”

By the time Indiana Jones and Sallah found the Well of Souls, Jared and Jensen had stripped down to their boxers and were snuggling under Jensen’s comforter. 

“Ugh,” Jared turned away from the screen and buried his face in Jensen’s neck. “All those writhing snakes are gross.”   

“They’re not all snakes you know,” Jensen reached for a handful of M&Ms and shoved them into his mouth. “They got seven thousand snakes from local pet stores and that, but it still wasn’t enough. Some of those snakes are actually cut up bits of hoses.” He helped himself to another handful of M&Ms and then tugged at Jared’s head.  “You gotta keep watching. There’s a really cool scene coming up where Indy gets into a fight and steals a plane. It’s awesome!”

Jared stayed wrapped tightly around Jensen while he watched the scene in question, once again burying his face against the older man’s neck when it became obvious that the bad guy was about to be chopped into pieces by the plane’s propellers.    

   Jensen’s neck smelled of clean sweat and tobacco smoke and Jared gave in to the temptation to mouth against it. Jensen shivered. And then he reached down and began to stroke Jared’s half-hard dick through the silky material of his boxers. Jared gasped and lifted his head. He pulled Jensen in for a kiss, sucking at his bottom lip and then licking his way into his mouth. Jensen let go of Jared’s dick and Jared would’ve complained, except that Jensen performed some sort of complicated roll/shunt maneuver and Jared found himself lying on top of the older man, their dicks pressed firmly together.  He rolled his hips and then thrust down tentatively. Jensen’s reaction was suitably gratifying, so he did it again, finding a rhythm, and keeping to it with the kiss too, thrusting his tongue and his dick in sync, until Jensen was whimpering breathlessly beneath him, squirming and clawing at his back and…possibly trying to say something? Jared stopped savaging his mouth and looked down into pupils blown so wide he could hardly see the green.

“Need to suck you,” Jensen panted. “Gotta get you in my mouth. Please, Jare. Please let me.”

Jared swallowed. He nodded and that was all the permission Jensen needed to grip his arms and flip them so that Jared was now underneath him. Jensen pulled Jared’s boxers down roughly and then swore reverently, pressing a hand down on his own straining erection, before lowering his head and sliding his lips over the head of Jared’s dick. And that? That was the single most awesome thing that Jared had ever felt and he gasped and thrust up into the warmth of Jensen’s mouth. Jensen pushed Jared’s hips down, holding them tightly so that Jared could barely move, before swallowing him down to the root and, oh dear Lord, Jared’s cock was engulfed by tight wet heat, and Jensen sucked and licked, and Jared moaned and fisted his hands in Jensen’s hair and squeezed his eyes tightly shut and, oh dear Lord, Jensen was good at this. Jared didn’t want to think too much about why that was.  Jensen began to hum and swallow, sliding his mouth teasingly up Jared’s length until only the head was encased in the warm wetness of Jensen’s mouth. Jensen sucked hard then, swirling his tongue around the helmet and stabbing occasionally at Jared’s slit, before deep-throating him again, and Jared began to blaspheme, because oh God, oh God, oh _fuck_ , that was, yeah, oh yeah, ohhhhhhhh. Jared pumped into Jensen’s mouth, his brain completely off-line, and Jensen sucked him through his orgasm until Jared was too sensitive to take it anymore and pushed feebly at his shoulders.

“Wow! That was—” Jared watched Jensen lick come from his  lips and his brain came back on-line with a force that felt a lot like a head-slap from Jeff.

“Fuck!” he scrambled into a sitting position. “We didn’t use a condom!”

Jensen’s eyes widened. “You said _fuck_!”

“Not really the point, Jensen. You don’t do uncovered!”

Jensen’s eyes narrowed. “With clients,” he said. “You’re not a client. And unless you’ve got something real big to confess, ain’t no way you could have an STD.  It was safe, Jared.”

Jared lay back down again and pressed his hands over his eyes. “Jeff says I’m supposed to practice what I preach.”

Jensen bit back a laugh. “Okay, first? Please never mention Jeff when we’re having sex again. And second,” he bit at his bottom lip, “if you’re really set on, uh, practicing what you preach, I’ve got some cherry-flavored condoms and one hell of a boner.”

Jared opened his eyes and stared at him.

Jensen ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “You don’t have to,” he said. “I’ll understand completely if, you know, you’re not ready to do something like that.”

Jared sat up slowly.  “Can I…touch you?”

“Uh. Yeah?”

Jensen was kneeling between Jared’s spread legs and Jared’s boxers were still bunched around his thighs. He blushed and pulled them up. Jensen watched him with a fond expression.

“Could you, uh, lay down?” Jared asked.

Jensen complied, climbing over Jared and rolling onto his back beside him.

“So I can…I can touch you?”

Jensen grinned and nodded and let his legs fall apart.

“Can I take these off?” Jared tugged at Jensen’s Batman boxers and Jensen lifted his hips.

Jared tugged them off and then climbed in between the older man’s spread legs and stared down at him with all the wonder of a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Jensen squirmed beneath him.  “Uh, Jared? Just so you know, I’m trying real hard not to start channeling Dean here. But the staring’s a bit…weird.”

 “Sorry,” Jared ducked his head. “I just… I can’t believe I’m allowed to touch you. And then there’s still that little voice in here,” he tapped his forehead, “that keeps telling me it’s wrong to want to.”

“ _Do_ you want to?”

Jared nodded his head fervently. “Oh _God_ , yes.” 

But he couldn’t seem to move. Anything other than sitting and staring just seemed to require too much brain power.

Jensen grinned wickedly and dragged a hand down his torso before wrapping it around his swollen cock and beginning to stroke himself.

“Hey!” Jared frowned. “That’s mine!”

“Possessive, much?” Jensen gasped, twisting his wrist on the upstroke, just the way he liked it. “If it’s yours, then come and do something about it.”

“Condoms?”

“Bedside drawer.”

Jared reached over Jensen and yanked open the drawer. There were several condom boxes and Jared grabbed all three in his big hands. Regular. Nope. Ribbed. Nope. Cherry-flavored. Awesome. He threw the boxes he didn’t want back into the open drawer and then stilled when he spotted the black, thick-veined silicone penis sitting casually next to the bottle of lube.

“Jared?”

He picked the penis up and held it out for Jensen to see.

“Ah. You found Bob.”

Jared’s eyebrows shot into his hairline.

“You named it?”

Jensen shrugged. “Battery Operated Boyfriend. Bob.”

“So you like to, uh,” Jared made a crude gesture with the penis. “For fun, I mean. Not just for work.”

Jensen looked at him closely. “Do I like getting fucked? Hell, yes. I like fucking too. And giving blow jobs. And,” he stared pointedly at the box of condoms in Jared’s hand, “I like _getting_ blow jobs too.”

Jared threw Bob back in the drawer and made haste getting a cherry flavored condom out of its packet.

“Shiny side out,” Jensen said helpfully when Jared stared at the small, slippery red circle in confusion.

In the end, Jensen had to put it on himself, but once he did Jared wasted no more time, sliding his mouth down the length of Jensen’s dick and moaning at the full, heavy feeling in his mouth. What Jared lacked in skill ( _Fuck! Watch your teeth_!), he made up for with enthusiasm, sucking and slurping and gagging when he tried to take too much of Jensen into his mouth, before finding a good rhythm.

It hadn’t taken Jensen long to get painfully hard tonight, partly due to the little blue pill he’d taken earlier in the evening to get through his appointment with Mr and Mrs Smith. Jensen wasn’t a fan of threesomes—always too many arms and legs getting in the way—and having to keep the needs of two clients in mind, was tiring. Also? The Smiths always wanted him to fuck Mrs Smith while Mr Smith fucked him and women weren’t really his thing. Thank God for Viagra.

Now though, Jensen just needed to come, preferably without ramming himself down Jared’s throat and scarring the poor guy for life; or at the very least putting him off giving Jensen any more blow jobs.

“Use your hand too,” Jensen urged, pulling at one of Jared’s hands and wrapping it around the base of his dick. “Yeah, that’s it. That’s good. Fuck. Love your hands. So big.” Jensen let himself thrust, just a little, and Jared squeezed and sucked and stroked and Jensen came with a groan into the condom.

Jared coughed and Jensen’s dick fell out of his mouth.  

“Oh crap,” Jared said. “I’m so sorry. That was…probably the worst blow job you’ve ever had!”

He dropped his head into his hands and then slumped forward and buried his head in a pillow.

“It really wasn’t,” Jensen said. “I’ve had some truly bad blow jobs from deeply closeted assholes in my time. That definitely wasn’t bad.”

“Wasn’t good though,” Jared said darkly.

Jensen dropped a quick kiss on the back of his head. “Yes it was. It was awesome.”

He got rid of the condom and wiped himself down quickly, before rejoining Jared in bed. Jared had rolled onto his back, but his face was still hidden under a folded arm.

“You okay?” Jensen said, nudging him gently.

“Yeah. I just. I feel like you got the short straw here. You’re so good at all this stuff, like really, really amazing and I’m just…I have no idea what I’m doing and…”

“Skills can be learned,” Jensen said lightly. “And we’re not gonna argue about who got the short straw because ‘hey, the guy I’m dating fucks other guys for money’ wins you that one every time.”

Jared sighed. “I keep waiting to start caring about that. But I just…don’t. So long as I’m different. So long as I have this,” he placed his hand over Jensen’s heart, “then the rest doesn’t matter.”

Jensen smiled and for just a brief moment he let himself believe that it was true.

 --

Jared awoke suddenly, to the sound of loud hammering. He was uncomfortably sweaty, the corner of his mouth was pressed against a puddle of drool and there was someone groaning beside him.

“Fuck off,” muttered a voice.

Jensen’s voice.

He was at Jensen’s house.

He was in Jensen’s bed.

He was naked.

He realized this last just as the door burst open to reveal a partially-dressed and scowling Chris.

Jared yelped and Chris’s eyes slid to him briefly before fixing on Jensen.

“Yo Douchebag,” he said, “there’s some Asian kid at the door askin’ for Dean. S’got a red-headed chick with him, looks like she’s comin’ off of somethin’, cold turkey.” He flicked his eyes back to Jared. “Hey Padre. Glad you’re back. Jay’s been fuckin’ _pinin’_ , the pathetic drama queen.”

Jensen threw a pillow at Chris’s head and then climbed out of bed, stark naked. Jared’s eyes just about came out on cartoon-stalks when he bent over and pulled a pair of track pants out of the bottom drawer of his dresser.

Chris sniggered. “See something you like there, Padre?”

Jared blushed. “I, uh. I’m not gonna be a priest any more, Chris. I withdrew from seminary school while I was away.”

“Good for you,” Chris said as Jensen, now dressed in dark grey track pants and a light grey tee-shirt, pushed past him, muttering darkly, and went out into the living room.

\--

 Kevin and Charlie were standing just outside the open front door, both of them with large duffel bags. Kevin’s arms were folded across his chest and he was shuffling back and forth restlessly. Charlie was standing behind him, hunched in on herself with her head down.

“You said we could come,” Kevin said as soon as he saw Jensen. His eyes darted from Jensen to Chris and back again. “This better not be a sex-torture dungeon thing. Is this a sex-torture dungeon thing?”

Chris sniggered. Jensen frowned.

“No. This is not a sex-torture…you know what? Get in here!”

Jensen shepherded Kevin and Charlie into the living room. “Take a seat.”

Jared, now dressed, appeared out of Jensen’s bedroom and Kevin startled, pulling his legs up onto the sofa and wrapping his arms around the duffel bag on his lap.

“Relax,” Charlie said. “He works at the drop-in center. He’s a good guy.”

“Hi,” Jared fixed Kevin with an earnest puppy-dog expression and then broke out his dimples. “I’m Jared.”

Kevin nodded.

“So what did you guys need?” Jensen asked.

“Can we maybe use your shower?” Kevin rushed the words nervously.

“Sure,” said Jensen, and Chris cleared his throat.

“What the fuck, Jay?” he said tightly. “When did we turn into a drop-in center?”

“Who’s Jay?” Kevin asked and Jensen sighed. He sat down on the edge of the coffee table and rubbed at his chin.

“Okay. If we’re gonna let you into our personal space, I guess real names all round are in order. I’m Jensen. My friends also call me Jay. Jared introduced himself earlier. And my roommate, who’s scowling over there and trying to look intimidating, is Chris.” 

“He’s succeeding,” Kevin muttered. “I’m Rick. Or Ozzie. Osric really, but that’s too weird for most people.”

Jensen nodded. “Yeah. I get that. I get Jason a lot cuz people get confused by Jensen.”

He looked across at Charlie, who rolled her eyes.

“Felicia,” she said. “My friends call me Flick. So can we use your shower or do I have to blow someone first?”

Jensen showed Osric into the bathroom and Chris disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Jared standing awkwardly by the bedroom door and Felicia sitting on the sofa, biting her nails.

“So, uh,” Jared scratched his head. “Are you feeling better, uh, Felicia?”

“Oh yeah. I’m awesome,” Felicia ducked her head and tucked her hands in between her knees. “I miss getting high so bad that it hurts; like someone liquefied my bones and then sucked them out through my nose. But you know, aside from that, I’m just peachy.”

“Oh,” said Jared. “That sounds…difficult,” he flicked a hand through his bangs. “You know, we have Narcotics Anonymous meetings at _Per vias rectas_. You should come along.”

Felicia wrinkled her nose.   

“Alrighty,” Jensen rubbed his hands together as he re-entered the room. “You staying for breakfast, Jare?”

Jared’s lips twisted. “I better not. I’m supposed to be helping Jeff out this morning. I should probably just get going.”

“Okay,” Jensen nodded. “Before you go, I just need to, uh,” Jensen guided Jared back into the bedroom and then shut the door behind them. “I just need to do this,” he pushed Jared up against the wall and then planted his lips against Jared’s, kissing him gently while pinning his shoulders to the door.  

“Ugh, morning breath,” Jared said when they pulled apart.

Jensen’s grin was unrepentant. “For the record,” he said, “I missed you too. So if you have to disappear again, please let me know, okay?”

Jared agreed that he would.

\--

One of the things Jared loved about working at _Per vias rectas_ was the variety. Yesterday afternoon he’d done grocery shopping and food preparation. This morning he was doing correspondence and answering the phone and watching Chad crash and burn spectacularly at trying to get a date with Alona, while the two of them shelved books and refilled the trays of pamphlets together.

The front door bell jangled and Jared looked up. It was Sam with Gen in tow.

“How did it go?” he greeted them.

Gen shrugged. “The judge extended the restraining order for two years. Mark didn’t bother to show, which probably means he’s not gonna take it seriously.”

 Sam put an arm around her shoulders. “But we’re gonna take it seriously, aren’t we, Honey? We’re gonna report any attempted contact right away, aren’t we?”

Gen rolled her eyes. “Yes, _Mom_ ,” she shrugged Sam off.

Gen was gutsy; you had to give her that. Pint-sized and ferocious, with a kind-hearted generosity that she hid underneath layers of toughness, she was fast becoming one of Jared’s closest friends. The very last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt again. Jared chewed on his bottom lip.

“When you say you don’t think he’s gonna take the restraining order seriously… should we be worried?”

Gen turned to face him, her eyes serious. “Imagine a wild lion,” she said, “and you live in his territory. Whenever you cross that lion’s path the question is always the same. Will he ignore you or will he eat you? You should always be worried when you live in a lion’s territory, Jared. You’ll live longer.”

“Right,” Jared nodded. “So…Mark’s the lion?”

Gen stared at him. “It’s just as well you’re pretty.”

“Hey!” Jared frowned. “But I’m right to worry about you, right?”

Gen patted his cheek gently. “I got an angel watching over me. You should be more worried about your boyfriend.”

“My… you mean Jensen?”

“You got another boyfriend tucked away that we don’t know about?”

“What’s this about Jensen?” Sam said sharply.

“Misha’s taken me and Danni under his wing,” Gen said, “and Mark doesn’t want Jared touched for some reason. But Jensen? Mark wants him punished.”

“Punished?” Jared shot to his feet. “How? What? He’s not…he’s not gonna kill him is he?”

Gen shook her head. “Mark just wants him roughed up.”

Jared swallowed hard and reached for the phone on the desk with trembling hands. “I’ve gotta call him. Gotta let him know.”

Gen put a hand on his arm. “He knows, Jare,” she said gently.

“But,” Jared collapsed back into his seat. “I was with him last night; didn’t leave until this morning. And he didn’t say anything; didn’t seem scared, or worried, or… anything.”

 “Ooh!” Gen came around the desk and spun Jared’s chair around. “Did you finally punch your V Card, Jare? Did you park the pink Porche in Jensen’s garage? Or did he park in yours?”

Jared’s brow furrowed. “Did I…what?” He tilted his head. “Jensen doesn’t have a garage. Or a Porche.”

Gen grinned and then leaned forward and took Jared’s face in her hands, kissing his forehead before stepping back and looking at him fondly. “Never change, Jare,” she said. “Never change.”

Jared was sure that he looked as bewildered as he felt. He turned to Sam and pleaded wordlessly for an explanation.

“She wants to know if you and Jensen had sex,” Sam said.

“Gen!” Jared was mortified. “Sam’s like my mom! You can’t ask me about my sex life in front of my mom!”

Gen pounced. “Ah ha! So you have a sex life?”

Jared slumped against the desk, his face hidden in his hands.

“Speak of the devil,” Gen said, her tone evil with glee. “Oh Jensen,” she trilled, “I got a question for you.”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Sam said, pushing away from the desk. “I’m gonna go and check in on the kitchen staff.” And she headed across the floor, leaving Jared to Gen’s tender mercies.

Jared lifted his head in time to see Jensen making his way across the room towards him, with Felicia trailing along behind him.

“You okay?” Jensen’s eyes flicked between Jared and a wickedly-grinning Gen.

Before Jared could respond Gen said, “So, Jay, you pop his cherry yet?”

“Fuck off, Gen,” Jensen said easily.

“Oh come on!” Gen pouted. “Enquiring minds want to know?”

Jensen raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, Danni and I want to know. C’mon! You guys are hot and,” she bit at her bottom lip, “we wanna know if…I mean, he’s got really big hands and feet. Does he…? Is he…” her eyes flicked to Jared’s groin.

Jensen looked at Jared and licked his lips, the look on his face morphing into one of pure sin. He leaned forward and whispered something in Gen’s ear and Jared watched as Gen’s eyes widened.

“I hate you,” she groaned, giving Jared an admiring once over before pouting at Jensen. “I’m so jealous, you lucky bitch.”

  With a final sigh she headed over to where Danni was finishing up her GED session and Jared looked at Jensen’s smug expression with trepidation.

“What did you say to her?”

“Told her you’re packing a rifle not a pistol.”

Jared gritted his teeth. “Would everyone please stop using euphemisms that I don’t understand! Y’all go on about rifles and pistols and Porches and garages and I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Ugh!” Felicia said from behind Jensen. “He told her you’ve got a really big dick. Now, as someone who doesn’t give two shits about anybody’s dick, can we please drop it and get me booked into the NA group?”

Jared was only too happy to comply.

\--

After the lunch rush, Jared and Jensen slipped upstairs to the apartment and heated themselves up some of Sam’s left over mac ‘n’ cheese.

In between mouthfuls of macaroni, Jared finally brought up the issue that had been bothering him since Gen first mentioned it, “I hear Mark wants you punished.”

Jensen shrugged.

“Were you even going to tell me that you’re in danger?” Jared persisted when it became apparent that Jensen wasn’t going to say anything.

“Nope,” Jensen wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“Why not?”

Jensen pushed his mac ‘n’ cheese around on the plate. “This isn’t your world,” he said finally. “You’re a decent guy. You don’t need to be dragged into the shit that goes on around here.”

Jared dropped his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter. “See, that’s just garbage,” he said. “You, Jensen, are a really important part of my world. So if something bad happens to you, I’m dragged into it, whether you want me to be or not.”

Jensen looked up at him, his eyes sad. “Okay,” he said, “I get your point. But…this threat? This is any day of the week for me. Yeah, sure, the threat’s a little more concrete than usual, but I go out to work every day knowing that I could get the shit kicked out of me. It’s happened before and there’s always a chance it’ll happen again. It’s not that big a deal. Just,” Jensen shrugged, “an occupational hazard.”

Jared’s eyes narrowed. “Well if it’s ‘no big deal’, then why didn’t you tell me about it?”

Jensen shrugged again. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

One of the things Jared loved most about Jensen’s character was the way he always thought about the well-being of his friends and tried to protect them whenever he could. Sometimes, though, he worried that Jensen put the needs of others before his own because, deep down, he thought he wasn’t as good as other people; that he was less-deserving of safety and happiness for some reason.

“Jensen?” Jared reached out and covered one of Jensen’s hands with his own. “I always worry about the people who are important to me. And you’re important to me.”

Jensen held himself rigid and kept his eyes firmly lowered until Jared moved his hand, and then he went back to quietly eating his mac ‘n’ cheese.

“At least tell me you’re taking precautions,” Jared said.

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded. “I’m staying away from the stroll, sticking to my regulars. And I got people watching my back; Chris, Misha, a couple vice cops. People I can trust.”

It kind of hurt for Jared to hear that he hadn’t made that list, but he understood that Jensen had only been trying to protect him.

“So,” Jensen cleared his throat. “What’s next for you, now that you’re not gonna be a priest?”

Jared told Jensen about his plans to study social work. Or maybe counselling. Or possibly psychology. 

“I haven’t exactly decided yet, but I want to do something that’ll allow me to help people. And maybe stay here, working with Jeff and Sam.”

Jensen pursed his lips. “You’d have to do a suitable bachelor degree first, but you shouldn’t have too much trouble transferring from whatever the course for priests is called into something suitable,” he put his fork down and pushed his empty plate away. “You should talk to Tom. He did a Masters of Social Welfare at UCLA, so he could probably give you some good advice.”

Jared was a little surprised that Jensen knew where his parole officer had gone to school and it must have shown on his face because Jensen’s lips twisted and he frowned at him. “Tom was trying to encourage me to go back to school, thought maybe I’d like to do welfare work. You know; be a role model and show all the other whores how easy it is to get out.”

Jared winced at the sarcastic tone. “Did you tell him you wanted to study Physical Therapy?” he asked.

Jensen nodded. “UCLA doesn’t offer it. I’d have to do a pre-health bachelor degree first, which I could do anywhere, but my best bet would be CSU because the Sacramento, Fresno, Northridge and Long Beach campuses all offer accredited PT programs.”

Another thing that Jared loved about Jensen was the way he lit up and became so animated and excited whenever he talked about going to college. It was truly important to him, Jared realized; a way to a better life.

“Northridge or Long Beach would be handy,” he said.

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “Fresh start, Jare,” he said. “Close to the stroll ain’t exactly a priority.”

“No. Right. Sorry,” Jared bit at his bottom lip. “We should start doing applications for the Fall Quarter. Both of us.”

“It’ll have to be Fall next year,” Jensen said. “The deadline for applications for this Fall was last November. But sure. Why not.”

Later that night Jared had a long conversation with Jeff and Sam about his—and Jensen’s—dreams for the future and Sam agreed to help them both with their college applications.

“I know Jensen got his GED,” Jeff said, “but did he sit for the SAT? He’ll need an SAT score if he wants to apply to CSU. I can help him with that if he needs me too. And he’ll need some extracurricular activities to impress them with too. Perhaps I should talk to him about doing some more volunteer work for us?”

Jeff headed out to run the coffee van with one of the other volunteers and Sam made Jared and herself cups of hot chocolate.

“So,” she said, plopping herself down cross-legged on the sofa beside him, “how’s your Momma holding up?”

“She’s doing okay,” Jared took a big mouthful of hot chocolate and then wiped away the milk mustache he gave himself with the back of his hand.

“And your siblings?”

“They…uh…none of us really got along with Dad, so they’re…mostly they’re…confused,” Jared pulled a face. “I had to give them all a crash course in Sex Ed. And then I had to…” Jared ran a hand through his hair. “The prostitute that Dad was caught with was only fourteen. So I had to… My youngest sister’s twelve and the twins are sixteen. I just needed to be sure, you know?”

Sam’s face was creased with worry. “And are you? Sure?”

“Yeah. He never touched any of them,” Jared bit his bottom lip. “Jensen says he’s worked parties that my Dad’s been at. That when my Dad picks out a hooker he goes for the young ones with the virginal girl next door look. How disturbing is that?”

“Oh, Honey,” Sam shifted closer to him and took hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly. “You’ve got so much on your plate right now. How are you holding up?”

The crazy thing was Jared was fine. Happy even. His life, which had been so controlled, so insular and so lonely, had finally bloomed and it was exciting.  Even the hint of danger posed by Jensen’s profession and Mark’s threats was exhilarating, if Jared was honest with himself. Not that he wanted Jensen to get hurt; far from it, but at least, _finally_ , things were happening in his life. Jared hadn’t even realized how stunted his life had been until he’d come to West Hollywood. Now, for the first time ever, he was living life out loud and he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it.

“I’m great, actually,” he said. “I’m finally living. And everything that comes with that. The good. The bad. The sad. The scary. It’s…I’m happy, Sam.”     

Sam patted his hand. “Just don’t get so carried away by the thrill of it all that you forget to stay safe.”

“Sam!” Jared blushed.

Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about sex, Boy. I’m talking about life in general. Although,” she paused and looked him straight in the eye, her expression serious, “you are always welcome to talk to me about anything, including sex. You know that, right?”

Jared grimaced. “Is this about what Gen said earlier?”

Sam held up her hands. “Just a general offer. There’s no pressure either way.”

Jared looked up at her from under his bangs. Most of his mentors had been male, and Jeff had been really understanding and non-judgmental about Jared’s sexuality, but Jared had still felt a little uncomfortable with him. Jared had read a lot of informative books and pamphlets now, but when it came to sex, there was still so much he was uncertain about. Talking with a straight man about gay sex was uncomfortable for Jared. Maybe it would be easier to talk with a woman?

“Sam?”

“Yes, Hon?”

“I’ve been, uh, kind of assuming that the line, you know, for whether you’re a virgin or not, is anal sex. For a gay guy, I mean. But is it? I mean, when it’s a guy and a girl it’s when he puts his, you know, in her…and they could make a baby, and then they’re not virgins any more. But if it’s not the, uh, reproductive hole involved, does it actually matter what other hole it goes in? As far as the virginity question goes? Oh God…this is so embarrassing!” Jared covered his face with his hands.

“That’s a really good question, Jared,” Sam’s voice was warm and kind. “Traditionally our society has always been more concerned about a woman’s virginity than a man’s because men have always wanted to ensure that any offspring their partner had was theirs. But conventionally, when it comes to sex between two men, I think most people draw the ‘virginity’ line exactly where you said. At anal sex.”

Jared took a deep breath. He straightened in his seat and nodded to himself. “Then I’m still a virgin.”

Sam’s lips twitched upwards, her eyes dancing with humor, and Jared realized that he’d just more or less confessed to having gotten a blow job.

“Did you use a condom?” Sam asked.

Jared clamped down on the irritation her question caused because he got it, he did. He was a naïve virgin and Jensen’s job meant that he was high risk as far as STDs went.

“Only on Jensen,” Jared said. And then blushed when he realized he’d just admitted to having _given_ a blow job too. “He said I didn’t need one.”

Sam’s eyes tightened. “I hope he doesn’t make a habit of saying that,” she said.

Jared shook her head. “He doesn’t do bareback with clients. But, Sam. I’m not a client.”

Sam smiled and patted his hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**A** s always, when Jensen arrived, the front door of Sebastian’s penthouse apartment was unlocked. Jensen took a moment to school his expression and get into the right headspace and then pushed inside.

“Hi Honey,” he called out. “I’m home!”

He made his way across the black marble floors of the entrance hall and into the living room. Sebastian appeared in the doorway to the study, his electric blue silk shirt unbuttoned to mid-chest and his arms spread wide.

“Darling!” he said.

Jensen walked into his embrace and was pulled up against Sebastian’s chest, his plain silver dog tag necklace digging into Jensen’s flesh.

Sebastian pulled back and slipped his arm around Jensen’s shoulders. “I need your expert opinion,” he said. “I’ve got an exhibition coming up at The J Paul Getty Center. Male Nudes.  I’m just doing the final selections. I’m trying to decide between Pierre and Erik from the San Francisco Ballet and Adam Rittman doing his best impression of a Baroque sculpture. What do you think?”

Jensen looked over the poster-sized black and white photos on the table in the study. “The dancers,” he said immediately. “The muscles in those asses…wow. Very hot. What else is going in the exhibit?”

Sebastian opened a black leather art folio and motioned for Jensen to flick through the photographs contained within it. They too, were all poster-sized black and whites.

“Oh no,” Jensen dropped a photograph of himself back into the folio. It was a nice shot, but he was naked—except for a cowboy hat and a pair of tight black briefs with ‘USA’ printed on the front in silver. And okay, you couldn’t really see his face, what with the way his head was ducked and he was peering up shyly from beneath the broad brim of the hat, while using one hand to push down the briefs, but still.  “You’re not displaying that!”

“Au contraire, Darling,” Sebastian said. “The contract you signed gives me express permission to do just that. Oh now, come on, don’t pout. You’re stunning in that photograph. It’s _tasteful_. And you’ll be hanging in _The J Paul Getty Museum_. That’s tremendous exposure.”

“Yeah,” said Jensen. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

Sebastian put both hands on his shoulders. “You’re a model, Darling. And a gorgeous one at that. Being hung in a prestigious gallery is good for your _modelling_ career. I’ll even get you a couple of free tickets to the Opening. You can bring that friend of yours, Christian. Or Miss Danneel, perhaps.”

Jensen bit his bottom lip. Sebastian was right about it being good for his modelling career. And even if he wasn’t, there was nothing Jensen could do about it. The contract he’d signed _had_ stipulated that certain works could be publicly displayed.

“You’re right,” he said. “I just…you’re right.”

“You’re not an extrovert. I get it,” Sebastian put his hands on Jensen’s shoulders and began to massage him. “You’re so tense. I bet I know how I can fix that.” He took hold of Jensen’s hand and pulled him to the bedroom. “Take your shirt off and lie face down on the bed,” he said, in the low voice he used when he was trying to be seductive. “I’ll get the massage oil.”

Massage oil. Shirt off. Bed. Right. They’d got to the business part of the evening. Jensen bit back a sigh. Sometimes he wasn’t surprised that Sebastian still harbored delusions that they were more than hooker and client; because there _was_ more to their relationship than just that; they were friends. And they did move easily from hanging out as friends to business. It was no wonder, really, that Seb confused the ‘boyfriend experience’ he paid for with the real thing.

Later, when Jensen had showered and re-dressed and picked his money up from the side table, he joined Sebastian in the living room.

“This one’s Japanese,” Seb said, handing Jensen an Asahi.

“I know,” Jensen sat down carefully on the arm chair opposite Seb. “Emilio’s Liquor on Santa Monica sells it.”

“Oh,” Sebastian looked disappointed. He liked to introduce Jensen to new and exotic beers.

Jensen took a long drink and then leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs and the bottle dangling from two fingers.  He looked up at the photographer and cleared his throat.

“We need to talk, Sebastian.”

“Oh dear.  That sounds serious.”

Jensen nodded. “I’m, uh, seeing someone.”

Sebastian stared at him. “Seeing someone?”

“Yeah. You know. Dating.”

“Dating?”

“What are you? A parrot?”

Sebastian frowned. “But…I thought we had an understanding.”

Jensen closed his eyes briefly. “You and I have a business arrangement. And yes, here we are having a beer together. Work colleagues who happen to actually like each other do that sometimes, after work.”

Sebastian’s mouth was flat and his eyes hooded. “That’s how you see this? As a drink after work?”

“It’s not how I see it, it’s how it is. I’ve told you this before, Seb. You’re one of my favorite clients, but that still makes you a client. I’m not your boyfriend and I’m never gonna be your boyfriend.”

“And this man,” Sebastian stilled and then looked up at Jensen with a frown. “I assume it’s a man?”

Jensen nodded.

“He’s your boyfriend?”

Jensen hesitated. “Not yet, but it’s heading there.”

“So you’re quitting? Your ‘job’?”

Jensen shook his head. “Not yet. Maybe in a year or so. But not yet.”

Sebastian’s lips curled. “And how does your new man feel about your job?”

“He’s strangely unfazed by it. But then Jared’s a one-of-a-kind kinda guy.”

“Jared, hey? What’s his surname?”                                                                               

Jensen realized that he didn’t actually know the answer to that, but he wasn’t going to admit it to Sebastian. “I don’t think you need to know that,” he said instead, making a mental note to ask Jared next time he saw him.

“Beg to differ, Darling,” Sebastian said. “I’ll need it if I’m going to invite him to the Exhibition Opening. I assume you’ll want him to come?”

“I. Uh,” Jensen ran a hand across his mouth. “I’ll check with him and get back to you, okay?”

“So was that all you wanted to tell me? Or was there something else?”

Jensen drew a deep breath. “There is something else, actually. Now that I’m with Jared, I’m not gonna do bareback with clients anymore.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “You told me you quit doing that four years ago!”

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded. “With all my clients except you.”

Jensen watched as Sebastian shrank in on himself, just a little. “Oh,” he said. “Right. Of course.”

Sebastian took a swig of beer and then straightened up, his eyes sparkling with something that could’ve been mischief, or anger, or possibly grief. “I presume you’ll be knocking something off your fee to reflect that change?”

“Of course. Price goes down to $300.00.”

Sebastian sniffed. “One hundred dollars? That’s the premium you put on your health? Potentially your life?”

Jensen frowned. “No. I’ve turned down jobs worth thousands because they involved bare backing. I didn’t charge you much extra because we’re friends. I trust you Seb. And I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for me. I want you to know that.”

“Oh dear,” Sebastian put his beer down on the side table. “That sounded an awful lot like good bye.”

“Not good bye,” Jensen finished his beer and got to his feet. “Just see ya later. I’ll be back next week.”

Sebastian nodded. “Don’t forget to get your man’s full name to me if he wants to come to the Exhibition Opening.”

As usual, he walked Jensen to the door and kissed him goodnight. But for the first time, Jensen felt that he might have finally gotten through to him.

\--

Jared was struggling to make a decision. What did he want more? A touch screen or a pretty color? He was sort of leaning toward the pretty colors; red, blue, yellow, orange, silver, green. The cell phones were spread before him like a rainbow. Jared rather liked the green one. And the silver one.

“Jared. Dude,” Chad put an arm around his shoulders. “Forget about those Nokias, man. These Motorolas are the bomb. They’re flip phones and they’ve got touch screens! _Touch screens_! That’s so cool.”

Jared scrunched up his nose. “Yeah. But they’re kinda boring. They only come in black and…I think these ones,” he gestured at the brightly-colored Nokias, “are more fun.”

Chad rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Trust you to like the pretty rainbow-colored phones. They remind you of candy, don’t they?”

Jared ducked his head and then looked up from beneath his bangs.

“Maybe,” he bounced on the balls of his feet. “I’m definitely getting one. What do you think, Chad? Green? Or silver? Or what about this red one? It’s kinda sparkly!”

Half an hour and one very frazzled and bemused sales assistant later, Jared walked out of the shop with a brand new sparkly red Nokia 5110.

Back in the privacy of his own bedroom he keyed Jensen’s cell phone number into ‘contacts’, then Chad’s, then Jeff’s, then Sam’s and finally his mom’s. He sent Jensen a quick text message letting him know that he’d gotten himself a cell phone and then he called his mom, which meant he ended up being on the phone for so long that his ear got hot and red because he had to talk to all of his siblings, as well as his grandparents, too. The phone had beeped while he was talking to Raisa and when he hung up he found that he had a text message from Jensen welcoming him to the modern world. Jared called him back immediately.

“Hey.”

Just the deep, gravelly tone of Jensen’s voice warmed Jared all the way through.

“I bought a cell phone,” he said happily.

“I know,” Jensen sounded amused “So where are you right now?”

“I’m at home. In my bedroom.”

“Yeah? Me too. I’m stretched out on my bed.”

“Me too!”

“Hey Jare?” Jensen’s voice deepened and became even more sultry than usual, “What are you wearing?”

“Uh…track pants and a tee-shirt. Why?”

“Because all I’m wearing is a pair of tight, black briefs. And Jared? I really wish you were here so that you could use those big hands of yours to strip them off me.”

Jared had already been starting to get hard, just at the thought of Jensen stretched out on his bed wearing nothing but tiny, tight underwear. The idea of peeling those briefs off of Jensen’s body and seeing his dick bounce free had him rock hard so fast it was almost dizzying.

“Oh God,” he groaned into the phone. “You gotta stop it, Jensen. Go put some clothes on.”

Jensen sniggered. “Why? It ain’t like you can see me.”

“I can’t think about you like that! Not with Jeff and Sam in the other room!”

 “Are you hard for me, Jare?” Jensen’s voice was once again sultry and teasing. “Do you want me to slide my hot, wet mouth down the length of your hard cock? Suck you so good that you spill fast down my throat?”

Jared groaned, long and loud. “Stop it! I can’t…” he grabbed the base of his dick and breathed, trying not to come in his pants. “Please stop.”

“Jared?”  The sultry tone was completely gone. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just… You’re too tempting. And I can’t. Not with Jeff and Sam here.”

There was a pause. “You mean you don’t even jerk off if they’re in the house?”

“No! The apartment’s too small. It would be awkward.”

There was another brief silence. “For the record, I’m wearing track pants and a tee-shirt too.”

“What? But you said…?”

“Phone sex, Jared. The idea is to turn each other on.”

“Oh. Well, good job with that. Sorry I couldn’t, uh, return the favor.”

Jensen snorted. “Are you kidding? Just thinking about you getting so hard you nearly come in your pants is enough to turn me on. Actually, just thinking about _you_ is enough to turn me on.”

“Oh,” Jared blushed. “Uh. What are you doing this evening?”

“Nothing,” Jensen’s tone soured. “I’ve got an appointment with a regular in a little while, but I’ll be home by eight. And then I’ll just be sitting here with my personal security alarm in one hand and my Glock in the other, watching Seinfeld, because everyone’s working late tonight and I’m staying away from the beat until this thing with Mark blows over.”

“You have a gun?” Jared screeched.

“For protection. In case Mark figures out I’m home alone and sends his goons around to work me over.”

“No,” Jared shook his head vigorously. “No, no, no. Don’t be alone. Come here instead.”

Jensen hesitated. “I’d love to. But it’s probably not safe for me to be walking alone around near where you live right now.”

“Okay. Hang on. Just…don’t go anywhere.”

Jared put his cell phone down and hurried out into the kitchen where Jeff and Sam were cooking supper together.

“Jeff! Jensen’s gonna be all alone tonight. He’s gonna be sitting in his apartment with a gun and a personal alarm, in case Mark’s guys break in and beat him up! We have to go and get him!”

Jared fixed Jeff with the most beseeching puppy dog eyes he could manage. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam nod at Jeff.

“Sure,” Jeff said. “Now?”

Jared shook his head. “Later. He has to work first.”

Jeff frowned. “Is that safe?”

Jared explained that the client was a regular, someone Jensen trusted and Jeff stroked his beard and asked what time they should pick him up.

“Around eight?”

Back in his room Jared picked up his cell phone.

“Jensen? Jeff and I are going to come and pick you up at eight o’clock and bring you here, okay?”

Jensen laughed. “You and your dad are gonna come pick me up for a play date? That’s adorable, Jare.”

“Shut up! I just don’t want you to get hurt. And I want to spend time with you,” and then he added in an undertone, “and I only wish Jeff was my dad.”

“Jared?” Jensen’s query was soft.

“It’s nothing,” Jared said quickly.

Jensen sighed. “It’s not nothing. Your dad. Did he…was he…”

“No. He wasn’t bad. Not to us. He just…he was never home much and when he was, he wasn’t a lot of fun. And he’s a hypocrite. Demanding we behave a certain way at home, but at the same time, he was out there in the big wide world, being the exact opposite.”

“I hate when people do that,” Jensen said. “When they have one face they show the world and another completely different one that they wear behind closed doors,” he sighed and there was a brief silence. “Hey, Jare? Thanks. For coming to get me later.”

“It’s not a problem. Ooh. Should we have a secret knock?” Jared bounced on his bed. “You know, so that you’ll know it’s us and not the bad guys.”

Jensen laughed, deep and throaty. “You could just try calling out ‘hey, it’s me, Jared.’ That’d work.”

“You’re no fun,” Jared pouted.

“I’m lots of fun,” Jensen said. “Guess I’m gonna have to prove that to you when I come around.”

He hung up before Jared could respond.

\--

Jared was sorely tempted to knock ‘shave and a haircut’ on Jensen’s front door, because he was pretty sure that was something that bad guys wouldn’t do. Instead, he just followed Jensen’s advice, knocked and called out that it was him and Jeff.

 There was the rattling of numerous locks being unfastened and then the door inched open, the safety chain still attached.

“What’s the password?” Jensen said.

Jared gaped. “You ass! You said we couldn’t have a secret knock or anything!”

Jensen snickered and swung the door wide open.

“Hi Jeff. Come on in guys, I’ll just put some shoes on.”

Jensen’s skin was shower-warm, his hair was damp and messy and he was dressed in dark grey track pants and a stained, over-sized olive green hoodie.

“Did you get my text message?” Jared asked.

Jensen finished pulling on his socks and then hefted a small backpack. “Got all the paperwork in here,” he put it back down and then went in search of sneakers.

As he pulled on his old, ratty, black and white Nikes, Jensen glanced up and saw Jeff looking at him thoughtfully.

“Sorry,” Jeff said off of Jensen’s raised eyebrow, “It’s just…you’re usually so…put together. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you looking so,” Jeff appeared to fumble for the right word, “casual.”

Jensen’s other eyebrow joined the first one.  “And here we have the Hooker in its natural habitat,” Jensen intoned in his best dramatic wildlife documentary voice. “When not trying to attract a paying customer, the Hooker is just as capable of being a slob as anyone else.”

“Sorry,” Jeff said, coloring slightly.

Jared smacked Jensen’s arm. “Don’t be so prickly,” he said. “Usually, you even dress nicely when you come to scrub pans down at _Per vias rectas_ , so don’t blame Jeff for being surprised. It’s good, though. That you’re relaxed enough around us to just be your regular slob self.”

Jensen’s mouth fell open slightly and then he grinned. “Okay. Fair call,” he hefted his backpack. “We ready to roll?”

Back at Sam and Jeff’s apartment Jared and Jensen spread their college applications out on the kitchen table and began to work on them.

“Did you sit the SATs Jensen?” Jeff asked.

Jensen nodded. He pulled a piece of paper out of a pile on the table and handed it to Jeff. Jeff whistled.  “97th percentile. Well done! That’s outstanding!”

Jensen smiled. “Not just a pretty face, huh Jeff?”

“A score like this is a real credit to you Jensen, considering you never went to high school.”

Jensen ducked his head and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“So about your extra-curricular activities,” Jeff began.

Jensen barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m gonna mention those.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Keep helping out around here and I’ll give you a good reference. Community service work always looks good on a college application.”

“Mention the work you’ve done as a model too,” Jared said.

“And make sure you apply for financial aid,” Sam added.

Jensen bristled. “I don’t need financial aid,” he said coolly.

“Everyone should apply for financial aid,” Sam said. “You won’t get anything you’re not entitled to.”

“Do you need any help with the essay?” Jeff asked.

Jensen got to his feet. “Restroom’s that way, right?”

He disappeared into the bathroom and Jared folded his arms and cleared his throat. “Uh guys? I know you mean well, but y’all might wanna back off a little. Jensen’s used to having to do everything on his own. You’re crowding him.”

Sam sighed and sat down next to Jared. “One of the things I learnt when I did my course is that there are two types of people: orchids and dandelions. Orchids flourish when conditions are just right and wither when they aren't. Dandelions, on the other hand, grow just fine in a wide range of conditions. Jensen’s a dandelion.”

 Jared looked at her dubiously. “I don’t think Jensen would appreciate being compared to flowers.”

 “It’s an allegorical way of saying he’s very resilient,” Sam said. “And resilient people have four things in common,” she ticked them off on her fingers, “social competence, problem-solving skills, autonomy, and a sense of purpose and future. Jensen has all of these characteristics in spades and that’s why he’s gonna make it. But even dandelions can use a little tending sometimes.”

The sound of a throat clearing attracted their attention. “That flower thing?” said Jensen, “that’s a bullshit comparison. Whoever came up with it clearly didn’t know shit about orchids.”

“Do you know something about orchids?” asked Jared.

 Jensen ran a hand over his jaw and then nodded. “My mama used to grow ‘em, back home in Texas. The best way to kill orchids is to over-water ‘em or over-fertilize ‘em. Mama always used to say that orchids thrived on abuse. That was why she liked ‘em. It reminded her that something beautiful and exotic could grow outta the harshest conditions.” 

Jared turned to Jeff and Sam. “You heard the man,” he said. “Stop trying to over-water my beautiful orchid!”

Jensen actually blushed at that and tried to flee back into the bathroom, but Jared wouldn’t let him. He dragged him back to the kitchen table, shooed Jeff and Sam away, and then began to work quietly on his own transfer applications, leaving Jensen alone to regain his equilibrium.

At half past ten Jeff and Sam headed to bed. “Please don’t walk home,” Jeff said to Jensen. “It’d probably be safest if you just stayed here the night.”

Jensen agreed that he would do that and texted Chris to let him know.

“Wanna hit the hay?” Jensen waggled his eyebrows.

Jared bit at his bottom lip. “I’ve only got a single bed,” he confessed.

Jensen shrugged and began to pack away all his college paperwork. “We’ll make it work.”

Jensen actually had a few of life’s little essentials packed away in an inner pocket of the backpack and it wasn’t long before they were curled tightly together in Jared’s tiny single bed, their breath minty fresh, and condoms and lube standing on the night stand, right next to the Bible. Jensen had actually put them on top of the Bible, but that had made Jared uncomfortable and he’d moved them, to a great deal of eye-rolling from Jensen.

“I can guarantee you God isn’t watching,” Jensen said. “He doesn’t give a shit what people do.”

“God is always watching,” Jared contradicted softly. “And he does care. He just doesn’t interfere in human choices.”

Jensen snorted. “Sounds like a bullshit cop-out to me.”

Jared pulled back then and saw the very real anger in Jensen’s eyes.

“It’s free will, Jensen. Without it, we’re just a bunch of pre-programmed automatons, incapable of love or art or appreciating a sunset. But the problem with free will is that if you have it, and I have it, so do murderers and rapists. God can't just go in and take away free will from certain people or the entire concept falls apart, and besides, God doesn’t go back on His Word. He gave His Word about free will, so as horrible as some of the choices that people make are, God can’t just make them do what He wants.”

“What about that saying of Jeff’s?” Jensen’s eyes were glassy with unshed tears, “ _the standard you walk past is the standard you accept_. If God can just stand by and watch a kid get fucking _raped_ , then how can he claim to love that kid? How can he expect that kid to trust him ever again? And didn’t he used to smite whole villages and turn people into salt because he didn’t like their choices? If God even exists, which I seriously doubt, then he’s nothing but a neglectful, deadbeat dad.”

Jared’s own eyes were filled with tears too now. He held Jensen close and buried his face in his neck. “I hate the thought of you getting hurt; hate the idea that people have hurt you in the past. But—”

“I swear to God,” Jensen said flatly, “that if you say _everything happens for a reason_ , I will punch you.”

Jared bit at his bottom lip. “All I know,” he said, “is that I love the man you grew to be. And that man is the sum of everything that happened to him.”

Jensen blinked. “You love me?”

“I… Yeah. I do.”

Jensen snuggled closer against Jared’s chest and they lay in silence for a long moment, just clinging to each other. Finally, Jensen spoke. “My one VIP client that I was still doing bareback with, I told him today I wouldn’t be doing it any more.  Because I was seeing someone. Someone I hoped would be my boyfriend one day.”

Jared drew breath sharply and then frowned. “You _were_ talking about me, right?”

Jensen smacked him lightly on the forehead. “Yes, Jared, I was talking about you. And speaking of Seb—”

“Who?”

“The client. His name’s Sebastian. He’s a pretty famous photographer and I’ve done a fair bit of modelling work for him.”

Jared beamed. “Hey, that’s awesome!”

“Yeah. So he’s having an exhibition at the J Paul Getty Center and he invited me to the opening. And when I told him about you, he said I should invite you to come too.”

“I’d love to!”

“Right. So he’s gonna need your full name for the ticket. And when he asked me for it, I realized that I had no idea what your surname even was.”

Jared thought quickly. Most people had no idea what his dad’s real name was, just knew him by his stage name. And even if they did know it, what were the odds that they’d link gay Jared who worked at a drop-in center in West Hollywood with a homophobic A-list movie star?

“It’s Gumm,” he said. And then he spelled it out. “Pretty lame, huh? You can see why I don’t go out of my way to tell anyone,” he hesitated and then said, “I don’t know your surname either.”

  Jensen worried at his bottom lip for a moment and then told him that it was Ackles.

“Jensen Ackles,” Jared mused. “J Ackles. Jackles. That’s gonna be my nickname for you. Jackles,” he reached out and stroked Jensen’s nose and then ran his fingertips over his cheeks. “Jackles Freckles,” he said.

Jensen pushed his hand away. “Freak.”

“Yeah, but I’m your freak,” Jared lowered his lips until they were almost on Jensen’s. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” it was more of a breath than a word, and Jared closed the gap between them and kissed Jensen softly, before licking his way into the older man’s mouth.

Jensen was breathless by the time Jared pulled away. He ran a hand across his spit-slicked lips and shuddered slightly at the look of reverence in Jared’s eyes. When it came to sex, Jared was clumsy and eager and completely lacking in skill, but he was so passionate and so devoted to making Jensen feel good that it really didn’t matter.

“We shouldn’t do more than kiss,” Jared said regretfully. “Not with Sam and Jeff in the other room.”

Jensen pouted. “I can be quiet,” he said. “Can you?”

Jared’s eyes darkened. “Yeah,” he said. “I can be quiet.”

They stripped in haste, hands fumbling, arms and legs tangling, and then rolled onto their sides, slotting their dicks together, kissing again, and rutting against each other, the only sounds in the room their harsh breaths and the brush of skin against skin. Jensen slid a hand between them and grasped their dicks, squeezing and stroking, and Jared moaned into his mouth, as his big dick swelled even more and began to dribble pre-come from the tip.

“Need you,” Jensen mumbled against Jared’s lips, “Need you inside me so bad, Jare.”

One of Jared’s arms snaked around behind Jensen and he rubbed his fingers against his ass. “Can I?” he asked.

Jensen reached out blindly behind him. He grabbed the lube from the nightstand and flicked open the cap, squeezing a little of the gel onto Jared’s fingers. “I prepped before I went to work,” he said, “it’s all clean back there.”

Jared blinked. He’d been so worked up, so caught up in the moment that the hygiene aspects hadn’t even occurred to him. So much for spontaneity. It seemed as if any type of anal play was going to have to involve a degree of forethought and preparation. 

Jared slipped a greased-up finger in between Jensen’s ass checks and, at Jensen’s nod of encouragement he pressed against his hole. It was hot and soft and gave way easily, allowing him to push a finger deep inside of Jensen. Jensen groaned. “S’not enough,” he said. “Give me another one.”

Jared complied, pulling his finger free and then coming back with two. Jensen moaned in satisfaction and Jared pumped in and out until he found a rhythm, counterpoint to Jensen’s stroking of their dicks. He began to pump harder, deeper and changed the angle a little. When he brushed up against a small, soft nub Jensen moaned again and bucked up against him. “Oh yeah, that’s it, right there!”

It only took a half-dozen more thrusts of his fingers and Jensen was coming. His ass squeezed Jared’s fingers hard and that was all it took to push him over the edge as well.

As they came down from the high, they lay panting together for a moment and then got moving slowly, cleaning up and redressing before lying together, wrapped in each other, again.

“You really liked that,” Jared said.

“It was awesome,” Jensen mumbled sleepily.

Jared bit at his bottom lip. “I’ve never…I’m not sure if I even want…”

Jensen put a finger against Jared’s lips. “I’d love for you to fuck me,” he said. “But if that’s not something you want, then I don’t care.”

“I’m scared I’ll hurt you.”

Jensen shook his head. “We’ll do it right,” he said, “It shouldn’t hurt; not more than a twinge,” he let his eyes fall closed. “But hey, it you wanna stick to blowjobs and hand jobs and not worry about anal, that’s cool too.”

Jared shook his head. “I want to make you feel good. I love the way you moan and thrash around and just lose it,” he bit his lip again. “I love you, Jensen,” he said softly.

Jensen opened one eye. “Ditto,” he said.

Jared frowned. “Ditto? Really?”

Jensen gave a half shrug. “Hey, if it was good enough for Swayze, it’s good enough for me.”

Jared had actually seen _Ghost_ , so he got the reference.   

“But it wasn’t good enough for Swayze. At the end he needed to actually tell her that he loved her.”

Jensen shut his eye and snuggled against Jared. “Well maybe I’ll tell you I love you at the end too. Now shut up. I’m sleepy.”


	6. Chapter 6

**T** he next few weeks were idyllic. Well, as idyllic as they got when you were working in a drop-in center for the homeless and spent your time dealing with drug addicts, people with mental health problems and child prostitutes. Still, Jared loved his job, loved that he got to really help people; to help them to make their lives better, even if only for a brief instant.

Things with Jensen were great.  He was sticking to his regulars and not spending any time at all on the beat, which meant that he had plenty of time to spend with Jared. Since that first time he’d spent the night, Jensen had slept over a dozen times, but although they’d been very far from monks, they still hadn’t had full-on sex yet. And Jeff and Sam had been really cool. Jared had sort of anticipated some kind of rebuke, the morning after that first night; despite their best efforts, they hadn’t been entirely quiet and Jared had expected…something; a lecture, a knowing look, a teasing remark.

Of course, Jensen had kind of forestalled any of that by coming out of the bedroom, whistling happily and taking his place at the kitchen table with a grin. “Don’t worry, Mom and Dad,” he said, “your boy’s still a virgin and yes, we were safe. Sorry if I got a little loud. I ain’t used to having an audience that doesn’t want to be played to.”

Jeff stuck his hand out across the table. “Hi,” he said, “Jeff Morgan. Not a hypocrite. You’re both consenting adults. What you get up to in the privacy of a bedroom you’ve chosen to share is none of my business.”

Jared grinned remembering it. It had been a turning point of sorts in Jensen’s relationship with Jeff and Sam; unsurprising, perhaps given how much Jensen hated people who didn’t practice what they preached. Since then, Jeff had encouraged Jensen to increase the amount of time he spent volunteering at the drop-in center and had also persuaded him that a leadership position would look even better on his college applications than just simply volunteering. So now, Jensen was mentoring a group of young prostitutes, encouraging them to practice safe sex with clients, to manage their money and to plan for the future. The kids knew Jensen from the beat and when they were sure that he hadn’t turned, that he understood their reality and wasn’t going to give them phony, hypocritical lectures, they listened to him with respect. It probably didn’t hurt that he had a lot of practical advice to give, some of which Jeff really wished he wouldn’t share, but Jensen was unrepentant.

“You think any of us’d be out here doing this if things back home weren’t fucked to Hell and back?” he said, when Jeff tried to quietly dissuade him from giving out advice on how to hook a long-term client with deep pockets. “We all wish we were regular kids with regular families, with nothin’ more to worry about than makin’ the honor roll and who to take to Prom, but that ain’t our world; _this_ is. And we gotta live it the best way we can. You think those kids’d be better off flipping burgers, living out their lives in the Projects in Watts? This is actually a way _out,_ if they do it right, so fuck off with your moral outrage.”

Jensen had also become Felicia’s official NA sponsor, but he was leaning toward not mentioning that on any of his college applications.   

Felicia was doing alright. She and Osric had started hanging out with the gang for movie and Playstation nights and the redhead had a giant crush on Gen. Gen wasn’t interested, but she thought it was cute.

Jared was slightly in awe of Felicia. She was a walking pop-culture encyclopedia, she was wicked smart and she whipped everyone’s butts repeatedly at _Gran Turismo_ , _Pro Skater_ and _Diablo II_.  Jared often found himself completely out of his depth with her, probably because of all the pop-culture references that littered her speech. Only last night she’d called him a friend of Dorothy and Jared honestly didn’t’ know anyone called Dorothy. She’d delighted in stringing him along too, telling him that she was a friend of Dorothy’s as well and giggling at his hang-dog expression and furrowed brow, until Jensen took pity on him and explained that the phrase was a slang expression for being gay.

They’d stayed at Jensen’s last night and Jared had thought long and hard about maybe going the whole way with his boyfriend—they’d made it official now—but it had been a late night, and they’d been drinking, and in the end they barely managed to exchange sloppy hand jobs before falling asleep.

Jared rolled onto his back, folded his arms above his head and grinned. Beside him, Jensen snored gently.

Jared lay still and quiet for just a moment longer and then he slipped out of bed and tiptoed out to the kitchen to put the coffee on.

His cup of sweet, creamy coffee made, Jared went and settled himself down on the sofa in the living room and switched on The Today Show.

_“…attending tonight’s Texas Film Awards, in her first official public appearance since her split with husband, fellow actor Thomas Gibson Garcia. Monaghan, who has made no statement since the split except to say that her children are her priority, will be presenting the Rising Star Award, and rumor has it, she’ll be wearing a Pauline Trigere ‘40s-era vintage number, and if that doesn’t bring new suitors running, I don’t know what will. Back to you in the studio, Matt.”_

Jared had been calling his mom regularly since he’d gotten his cell phone, so this wasn’t news to him, but he did wonder if she’d decided whether she’d be attending the After Party. Last time they spoke, she hadn’t made up her mind.

Jared crept quietly back into the bedroom and unplugged his cell phone from where it was charging, before creeping back out into the living room and calling his mom.

 “Hey, Baby,” she said, when she picked up.

“They were just talking about the Awards on _The Today Show_ , so I thought I’d see how you were feeling. Have you decided whether you’re going to the After Party?”

His mom had decided that she wasn’t going to go, which Jared thought was probably the right move. They made small talk for a while, his mom updating him on what the kids had been up to—they’d been researching possible schools they might like to attend and Raisa had started taking ballet lessons— and she told him about the planting they’d been doing in his grandmother’s garden. The talk then turned to the photography exhibition at the J Paul Getty Center, the opening of which Jared was going to that night with Jensen.

“How long’s it on for?” his mom asked, a teasing lilt in her voice. “I think I might have to come down and take a look.”

“Really?” Jared said nervously. “I, uh, why?”

 His mom giggled. “I hear it’s an exhibition of male nudes.”

“Mom!” Jared could feel his face heating up.

“What?” his mom said innocently, “I’m not allowed to appreciate tasteful renditions of the male form, _au naturel_?”

“No,” said Jared. “Really…just…no. Not when one of the photographs is of my boyfriend. I know you want to see him, but that is way more of him than you need to see!”

They wound up the conversation and Jared was just thinking about pouring himself a second cup of coffee when there was a knock on the front door. He approached cautiously and peered through the peep hole. It was Felicia and Osric. Still, Jared left the safety chain on when he opened the door.

Felicia muscled Osric out of the way, held her hand out in that odd gesture that Jensen had explained was a Vulcan salute and said, “Wassup bitchez?”

Jared heard a snort behind him and turned to see Jensen, bare-foot, bare-chested and hair adorably sleep-tussled, coming to the door.

Jensen reached past him and unhooked the safety chain, opening the door wide. “You do know we’re not a diner, right?” he said.

Felicia’s eyes widened. “Guess that explains why I never have to tip here,” she said.

Chris was his usual grumpy self when he joined them in the kitchen, but Jared knew now that he was all bark and no bite when it came to Felicia and Osric. He had a real soft spot for the fourteen year old and had quietly put the word out that Kevin was under Eliot’s protection.

Jensen was making blueberry pancakes, using Aunt Jemima pancake mix and frozen blueberries. “They ain’t as good as the ones my mama used to make from scratch,” he said to Jared, his Texan accent poking through as it often did when he spoke of home, or was very tired. Or drunk. “But they ain’t bad.”

And Jared had to agree. Having smothered his serve with maple syrup, it was all Jared could do not to make pornographic noises while he ate.

  Jensen was watching him with bright eyes and a slightly raised chin. “Good, huh?” he said, picking up his cigarettes and reaching for his lighter.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jared growled. “Not while we’re eating!”

Jensen glared, but he put the cigarettes down.

Another knock on the door had Jensen heading out of the kitchen with his cigarettes in hand.

Danni was on the doorstep with Gen and Misha, and Misha had his arms around both women.

Jensen’s mouth fell open. “Really?” he said. “I mean, I heard the rumors, but…really?”

Danni blushed slightly. “They were just rumors,” she said, “until last night.”

“Close your mouth dear,” Gen said, patting Jensen’s cheek, as she led the trio past him and into the living room. “Misha has a very flexible tongue and he really knows how to use it.”

Jensen continued gaping, but now he looked Misha up and down thoughtfully too.

“Sorry,” Misha said, a note of genuine regret in his voice. “I’m strictly opposite-sex oriented.”

“And besides,” said Jared, sliding up behind Jensen and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s middle, “he’s taken.”

“Ooh!” Gen cackled, “look at caveman Jared getting all possessive!”

Misha peered up at him. “Hello Jared. Have you grown again? I swear you’re taller every time I see you.”

“He’s gotten broader too,” Jensen said, leaning back against Jared. “And he’s been working out,” he reached up and squeezed one of Jared’s biceps.

 “Don’t you look so smug,” Gen said. “Danni and I have a man with a talented and bendy tongue!”

Jared blushed. “And on that note, I think I’m gonna get going. I’ve gotta work a shift at the drop-in center this morning, but I’ll be back here about five o’clock to start getting ready for tonight.”

Jensen spun in his arms and planted a sloppy kiss on Jared’s lips. “Don’t forget to bring your tux,” he said. “I can’t wait to see you in it!”

Jared assured him that he wouldn’t. “Love you,” he said, moving out of Jensen’s arms. 

“Ditto,” Jensen said. He gave Jared a wicked grin and then flipped a cigarette out of the pack and lit up.

\--

A fist pounded on the bathroom door and Chris said, “Move your ass, Jay. I gotta get ready for work before the night gets any older.”

“Fuck you, Chris, it ain’t even six o’clock,” Jensen leaned closer to the mirror and continued to artfully tousle his hair.

“I will break this door down, son,” Chris growled.

Jensen sighed. He gave his hair one final primp and then packed away all his crap and yanked the bathroom door open, glaring defiantly at his roommate.

Chris just stared.

“Come on,” Jensen snarked. “Say it. I look like a fuckin’ monkey.”

Chris smirked. “More like a waiter.”

Jensen rolled his eyes and made to push pass Chris, but the older man stopped him with a hand to his upper arm.

“You look good,” he said, with unexpected gravity.

“Thanks,” Jensen looked pointedly at where Chris was holding his arm, but Chris didn’t let go. He ran a hand over his jaw and then fixed Jensen with a fierce expression.

“Don’t let Sebastian fuck with you and Jared tonight,” he said. “And don’t let anyone make you feel like,” he paused and Jensen jumped in, with a cynical twist of his mouth, “Like a whore?”

Chris shook his head. “Like you don’t belong in their world. Because you do. Hell, Jay, you’re classier than most of the Fortune 500 CEOs I’ve fucked,” he let go of Jensen’s arm and gestured with his head toward the bedroom. “Go on,” he said, “your boy’s waitin’ for you.”

When Jensen walked back into his bedroom and saw Jared decked out in his tuxedo, his mouth went dry and his cock hardened in his pants.

“Well look at you,” he said, sashaying toward his boyfriend with all the sass he could muster. “Ain’t you just a long, tall, cool drink of water.”

Jared’s eyes went appropriately wide. “You look…wow,” he tilted his head to one side. “And what you just said…wasn’t that the first thing you ever said to me? Back when we first met?”

“It may have been,” Jensen arrived at his target and reached out, grasping Jared by the hips and pulling him in. “May have called you a cowboy too,” his voice was husky and his Texan twang was more apparent than usual.

Jared ducked his head. “And then I fell on my ass like an idiot.”

Jensen leaned in and mouthed at Jared’s jaw. “S’ok,” he said, “gave me a good excuse to get my hands on you.” He reached down and palmed Jared’s crotch, groaning when he felt how hard the younger man was.

“There’s a limo coming,” Jared panted, “you should stop.”

Jensen’s grin was positively wicked. “We’ve got time,” he said, unzipping Jared’s pants and dropping to his knees.

\--

The J Paul Getty Center was spectacular and Jared knew immediately that he wanted to come back during the day sometime and spend many happy hours just browsing through the art and sculpture.

The limousine that Jensen’s photographer friend had organized for them dropped them at the bottom of the hill and they gathered with a number of other well-dressed and ticketed guests until there were enough of them to fill the cable-car that hauled guests up the hill to the Center.  From there, they followed a white-gloved staff member who took them from the tram station in the arrival plaza, up a large set of steps, to the main doors of the rotunda building. They passed the information desks, orientation theatres and Museum shops and then climbed the grand staircase that led them to the Exhibition Pavilion, where the exhibition _Sebastian Roche: The Male Nude_ was being held.  

Wait staff with silver trays served champagne and finger food (which they called hors d’oeuvres). Jared really liked the mini quiches and helped himself to quite a few of them, much to Jensen’s amusement. “You and your stomach,” he said, shaking his head.

Jensen wasn’t really a fan of champagne, but it was all that was on offer and he figured that he couldn’t stand in the same room as a big, naked photo of himself without some form of liquid courage, so he snagged a glass for himself and another one for Jared.

“Alright,” Jensen drained half the glass and pulled a face, “let’s go and find Seb.”

The photographer was standing in a circle with a bunch of pompous old men, all with younger women on their arms, at least two of whom Jensen recognized as escorts.

Sebastian broke away from the group as soon as he saw Jensen.

“Darling,” he said coming forward and pulling Jensen in for a kiss on each cheek, French style. “You look amazing as always,” he let go of Jensen and turned to Jared. “And this must be your young man.”

“Thank you for inviting me, Mr Roche,” Jared said, extending his hand politely.

The photographer bypassed his hand and pulled him in for a French-style kiss as well. “Sebastian, please,” he said. He pulled back and stared at Jared. “You really are quite lovely. I see why Jensen is so taken with you. Your eyes are breathtaking, the way they change color with the light. Perhaps you might like to sit for me sometime?”

Jared frowned and turned to Jensen.

“I don’t think Jared would be interested in modelling,” Jensen said.

“Oh,” said Jared. “No. That’s really not me. But thank you. Your work is stunning.”

Sebastian smiled bashfully. “Have you seen the one of Jensen yet?”

Jared shook his head and Sebastian grinned gleefully.

“Come on then,” he took Jared by the hand, dragging him to the work in question. Jensen trailed behind, taking the opportunity to people-watch. Almost immediately he noticed that Sebastian and Jared were the subject of some pretty intense scrutiny from more than one person.

A dark-haired, dark-eyed man was watching Jared intently and something about him seemed familiar to Jensen. The man wasn’t a client, Jensen was sure of it, but…an agent or a gofer for someone rich and/or famous perhaps? Jensen had had dealings with enough of those in his career to recognize the look; he would bet his right nut that this guy was on the hunt for new talent for his boss. And Jared had caught his eye.   

Also watching Jared and Sebastian was a shortish, good-looking guy with a quirky mouth, a hooked nose and intense light-brown eyes. He saw Jensen looking at him and raised his glass with a goofy waggle of eyebrows. Jensen raised one of his eyebrows in response and then hurried to catch up to Jared and Seb: who were standing eye level with the top of his black briefs. Jensen swallowed.

“What do you think,” he asked, slipping a possessive arm around Jared’s waist.

“Beautiful,” Jared said. “He’s really captured the shyness and innocence that you try so hard to hide.”

Jensen barked out a laugh. “Sorry to burst your bubble,” he said, “but the boat carrying my innocence sailed a long time ago.”

“No, Jared’s right,” Sebastian said. “The boy next door’s right there, underneath the surface, just waiting for his opportunity to come back.”

Jensen snorted, heat rising in his cheeks. “Delusional, the both of you,” he said. “If you’ll excuse us,” he took Jared’s hand and gave Seb a little bow, “we’ve got lots of pictures of nekkid boys to go look at!”

  Sebastian waved them off. “Go,” he said. “Enjoy.”

A dozen photographs and a lot of mini quiches, miniature Philly cheese steak sandwiches, and sushi later, they found an empty bench seat and sat together, taking a break. 

“That photograph of the ballet dancers is stunning,” Jared said after a while. “Definitely my favorite. I mean, apart from the one of you.”

 “That’s my favorite too.”

“Sebastian’s a really good photographer.  A real artist.”

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded.

“You do know he’s in love with you, right?”

Jensen looked at Jared sharply.

“He looks at you the same way I do,” Jared explained.

“He’s just a client,” Jensen said softly.

Jared looked at him, eyes piercing, and then he sighed.

“He’s not though, is he? He’s a friend too.”

Jensen’s eyes flashed to Jared’s face and then he half-turned, ducking his head and staring down at the white-marble floor. “I knew this was a bad idea,” he said. “It’s not abstract any more is it? Now that you’ve got a face, a real person, to put to what I do, you can’t handle it and—”

He broke off when Jared’s arm settled over his shoulders.

“Idiot,” Jared said fondly. Jensen looked up at his boyfriend’s smiling face and frowned.

“I’m not jealous of Sebastian,” Jared said, “I feel sorry for him.” He placed one of his big hands over Jensen’s heart. “He’s just realized that he might be able to pay for the rest of you, but he’ll never have this. _This_ is mine. And it’s the most important part of you.”

The innocent boy-next-door stared up at Jared, incredulous and adoring, and then Jensen pulled his mask back into place. “My dick’s pretty important too,” he said impishly.

“Speaking of,” Jared said, his eyes dark and his voice suddenly husky, “you wanna get out of here? I’ve got things I want to try tonight.”

“Hell, yes,” Jensen surged to his feet and pulled Jared to his. As they made their way across the exhibition floor, Jensen couldn’t help noticing that the Gofer and the Eyebrow-waggler watched them leave.

\--

The ride home had been quiet, but charged with feeling, and Jensen was pretty sure that he was going to get laid tonight. He wasn’t entirely sure what Jared had in mind, but his boyfriend _had_ spent a long time in the bathroom when they were getting ready to go out. Had he used one of the anal douching kits that Chris and Jensen kept in the bathroom drawer? Had he found the tube of Astroglide gel they kept in there and used it to slick himself up and finger himself open? Jensen squirmed imagining it.

Chris was going to be working until the early the hours of the morning so they would have the apartment to themselves; Jensen hoped he would have good reason to be loud. He unlocked the front door and as soon as they were inside, Jared pushed him against the wall, face-first; his long arms bracketing Jensen and his big body pressed flush up against him.  

 “So hot in that tux,” Jared murmured against his ear. The hand beside Jensen’s head moved downwards and Jensen groaned when Jared palmed his ass firmly.

“Love you like this,” Jensen breathed, “love you goin’ all caveman, just takin’ what you want.”

Jared paused his groping of Jensen’s ass. “You want it too, though, right?”

Jensen grabbed his boyfriend’s hand and pulled it around to his groin. “Oh yeah,” he said, whimpering slightly as Jared’s long fingers closed around his hard cock. “Want you so bad.”   

Jared continued to stroke him through the thin fabric of his tuxedo pants and Jensen closed his eyes and gave himself over to the sensation.

“Wanna fuck you,” Jared growled. “Can I?”

Jensen’s breath hitched. “Fuck,” he breathed. “I love it when you swear. You sure got a dirty mouth on you for a choir boy.”

“I was never in the choir,” Jared said. “I can’t sing for shit.”  He rubbed his fingers over the head of Jensen’s dick and Jensen sucked in air and wriggled under the too-soft touch, straining for more.

“C’mon, Jare,” he said. “What are you waiting for? You gonna drag me back to your cave, put me on my hands and knees and ram your big dick up my ass?”

This time it was Jared who whimpered. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, pulling Jensen away from the wall and toward the bedroom.

“Hang on,” Jensen said. “I gotta hit the head.”

In the bathroom, Jensen filled the red rubber balloon of his anal douche with lukewarm water, put a bit of lube on the tip, and got to work. When the water ran clean, he cleared everything away and washed his hands. He didn’t lube and stretch himself; he wanted Jared to do that with his long, thick fingers.

Jensen was out of the bathroom and back with Jared within five minutes, but it was still long enough for Jared to have lost his courage. His boyfriend was sitting cross-legged on the blue-patterned quilt, biting his nails, his jacket and bow tie discarded on the wicker chair in the corner of the room.

Jensen began to strip, bow-tie first, then jacket, making a show of it, making it look good. His pants came off slowly, his shoes and socks he toed off quickly, and then he stalked Jared with intent while unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. Jared scooted back against the headboard and stretched his legs out in front of him and Jensen climbed onto the bed and crawled to him, body rippling like a lion’s. He straddled Jared’s lap and began to grind against him, pleased when he felt Jared’s dick begin to harden once again.

Jensen’s shirt was undone, his chest exposed, and he moved to undo the buttons at the wrists so that he could take it off.

“No,” Jared growled. “Leave it on.”

Jensen’s pupils dilated at the commanding tone and he stopped trying to take his shirt off, instead running his fingertips over his torso and grinding hard against Jared.

Jared made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a growl and then grabbed Jensen’s head and pulled him in for a kiss. Jensen steadied himself against the headboard and let his lips fall open, allowing Jared to take control of the kiss. Jared’s lips pressed hard, his tongue thrust urgently, and suddenly the room spun and Jensen was on his back, Jared looming over him.

 Jensen lay sprawled on the bed, his eyes alight with humor, as Jared fumbled his pants off and then unbuttoned his shirt with shaking fingers, all the while running his mouth, a litany of  ‘look at you, so fucking hot, can’t wait, need you so bad,’ falling from his lips.

Now it was Jared who straddled Jensen, leaning down to kiss him, gently this time, and then working his way down Jensen’s body to his black briefs…with USA printed on them in silver.

“Oh my God!” Jared’s breath hitched. “These are the ones from the photo!”

“Got to keep ‘em,” Jensen said. “Model’s perks,” he cleared his throat. “Half of LA might get to see me wearing ‘em, but only you get to take ‘em off me.”

Jared’s eyes darkened and Jensen could see the question in them, but his boyfriend didn’t ask it. Jensen reached out and took hold of his wrist.

“Only you,” he re-iterated firmly. “If Sebastian is paying me to model for him, that’s all I do.”

Jared nodded. And then he leaned down and began to mouth at Jensen’s dick through the shiny black fabric. Jensen’s briefs were soon wet with spit and pre-come and he was grasping the quilt in both hands; gasping and begging.

 Finally, he felt Jared’s fingers in the waist band of his briefs and raised his hips, encouraging Jared to strip them from him quickly. Jared took his off as well and then reached for the lube.

“You’re okay with this?” Jared said, suddenly tentative again.

“Oh yeah,” Jensen said. “I haven’t done this…for fun…in a long time,” he reached up and took hold of Jared’s dick, pumping it a few times. “Want this so badly,” he said, “just wanna lie here and take it…just…put it in me, Jare, please?”

Jared laughed. “Whatever you want, Jensen. But you might have to, uh, walk me through it, because I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Jensen rolled onto his stomach and spread his legs. “First you gotta open me up. Start with one finger, then two, then three. Use lots of lube.” When he didn’t get a response from Jared, Jensen turned to look over his shoulder. Jared was kneeling above him, frozen, a look of intense concentration on his face. “If you’d rather not prep me,” Jensen said, “I can do it myself. Just…give me the lube,” he reached out for it and Jared unfroze, pulling the tube away from Jensen’s outstretched hand. “Hell no,” he said, “was just trying to calm myself down.”

He squeezed some Astroglide gel onto his middle finger and then settled himself between Jensen’s spread legs and pressed a tentative finger against his hole.

 “I still can’t believe you wax back here,” Jared said as he pushed his finger inside.

Jensen couldn’t help it, he laughed. “I bleach too,” he said.

“Really?” Jensen could hear the frown in Jared’s voice. He looked back over his shoulder and saw Jared’s trademark furrowed brow. “Is that why your hole’s so pink?”

Jensen honest-to-God giggled. “This is probably the strangest conversation I’ve ever had with a guy whose finger was up my ass!”

“Hmmm,” said Jared. “I seem to remember that I should be able to,” he crooked his finger just so and Jensen nearly came off the bed.

“Yep,” Jared said, “that’s the spot.”

He pushed at it again and again and Jensen panted through the pleasure. “C’mon, Jare, move it along. Want your dick in me before I come.”

Jared pulled his finger out and there was a squelching sound, and then two fingers were pushing up inside of him.

“Oh yeah. That’s good.”

Jared’s fingers, like the rest of him, were big. Long and broad, they stretched Jensen good, probing and twisting and rubbing his p-spot, and Jensen barely noticed when Jared added a third finger, his ass was so relaxed and pliant. He heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper and then Jared’s hands were on his hips, pulling him up onto his knees.

“You sure about this?” Jared’s voice was deep and desperate.

Jensen growled. “If you don’t get that cock in me _now_ , I’m gonna put you on your back and ride you like a horse.”

Jensen felt the tip of Jared’s dick against his hole and then there was a long, slow, inexorable slide, and despite all the lube and all the stretching, Jensen felt every inch.

“Fuck you’re big,” he groaned, clutching at the quilt.

Jared stilled immediately. “Too much?”

Jensen panted into the circle of his arms. “Just gimme a minute.”

He lay and breathed, listening to Jared’s harsh pants. “Jensen,” Jared sounded wrecked. “I gotta move.”

 “Okay. I’m good.”

Jared buried himself deep with one powerful thrust and Jensen groaned out loud with pleasure/pain. The last time he’d been stuffed this full had been those two Japanese businessmen who’d wanted to double-team him. And that had been _two_ dicks; Jared only had one in him.

Jared had stilled again. “You okay, Jensen?”

Jensen realized that he was chanting ‘Oh God, oh God,’ under his breath and clamped his mouth shut.

“Yeah,” he said, having taken a moment to breathe. “It’s okay. I can take it.”

When Jared spoke again, his voice was very flat. “I don’t want you to ‘take it’,” he said. “I want you to enjoy it and if you’re not enjoying it, I can pull out and we can do blow jobs instead.”

Jensen clenched tightly around him. “Don’t you dare,” he said. “I _am_ enjoying it.”

“Uh huh,” Jared reached around and took ahold of Jensen’s cock, which had softened slightly.

“That can happen,” Jensen said. “You’re a big guy and, yeah, it hurt a little going in, but now I really need you to _move_.”

“Are you s—”

Jensen rocked back against him. “C’mon, Jare,” he said, “Fuck me already.”

Jared took his words to heart. He kept one hand on Jensen’s hip and the other wrapped around his cock and pulled back a little before pounding back in, hard.

It took Jared a little while to find his rhythm, to work out that grinding forward with slow, deep nudges was far better than stabbing in and out.  Jensen was writhing beneath him, thrusting himself into Jared’s hand and clenching at the quilt, his breath punching out of him in gasps and husky moans as Jared pressed against his sweet spot again and again and again. Jared felt as if he’d died and gone to heaven. The tight pressure on his dick was even better than the wet heat of Jensen’s mouth and Jared wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to hold off much longer. And he wanted to, desperately; wanted to make sure that Jensen had come before he allowed himself to follow him over the edge. Jared gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on Jensen’s cock, pumping him hard as he pounded his prostate and Jensen moaned long, low and loud and came all over Jared’s hand before slumping forward on the bed. Jared wiped his fingers on the quilt and moved his hands to Jensen’s shoulders. He let himself go completely, fucking in hard and fast, his hips snapping against Jensen’s ass as he chased completion. Jensen moaned beneath him and Jared fucked in deep one final time and then went rigid as he came hard into the condom.

Jared pulled out of Jensen slowly. He tossed the condom and then found a damp towel on the floor and used it to clean them both up.  Clean up complete he slumped down next to Jensen on the bed. “That was amazing,” he said, nuzzling his boyfriend’s neck.

Jensen didn’t move.

“Jensen?”

Jensen didn’t respond.

“Jensen?” Jared shook his shoulder roughly. “You’re freaking me out. Are you okay?”

Jensen rolled onto his side and peered up at Jared, his green eyes bright with unshed tears. “Yeah. I’m just…when I said it’d been a long time since I did this for fun,” he lowered his eyelashes and took a deep breath, “I, uh, that was actually…my first time.” He looked back up at Jared and Jared didn’t think, didn’t have to, he just leaned in and kissed Jensen tenderly, putting all the love he felt for his boyfriend into the movement of his lips against Jensen’s. “It was my first time too,” he said when he finally pulled away, “and because of you, it was the most special first time anyone could hope for.”

The tears that had been threatening in Jensen’s eyes began to fall and Jared pulled his boyfriend to his chest and held him tightly while he cried himself to sleep.

\--

Jensen woke up with the feeling that someone was watching him.

Someone _was_ watching him; Jared; who was propped up on one elbow, his face mere inches from Jensen’s. When he saw that Jensen was awake he smiled brightly and Jensen smiled back, the smile freezing on his face when the memory of his complete and utterly mortifying break down came flooding back.

“Oh, fuck,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Jared.”

Jared frowned. “What for?”

Jensen raised his eyebrows. “Right,” he said flatly, “because nothing says ‘I enjoyed our first time together’ like crying hysterically until you fall asleep.”

Jared beamed. “I enjoyed it too,” he said. “And I understand why you cried.”

Jensen looked away. “Well I’m glad one of us does,” he muttered.

“You were overwhelmed with emotion,” Jared said sagely. “Because I am just that awesome.”

Jensen stared at him. And then his lips twitched. Jared grinned at him and waggled his eyebrows and Jensen began to chuckle, finally throwing his head back and howling with laughter. “Oh man,” he said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, “I’m sorry. It’s just… _this_ was so _us_! I mean, the first time we kissed, you threw up. I guess it’s only fair that the first time we had sex, I had a meltdown.”

“Exactly,” Jared said solemnly. He took Jensen in his arms then and curled around him, making him the little spoon. “It’ll make a very dramatic tale to tell the grand puppies.”

“The…what?”

“The grand puppies.”

“Grand puppies? No, on second thoughts, I don’t wanna know,” Jensen wriggled his ass against Jared’s groin and reveled in the fact that his boyfriend was getting harder by the second. When Jared started to rut against his crack, Jensen took himself in hand and stroked his dick to full hardness.  “Want you inside again,” he said. When Jared tried to ease him onto his stomach he shook his head. “Want to ride you.”

Jared rolled onto his back and smiled up at Jensen. “All yours, cowboy.”

Jensen reached for the lube and then bit at his bottom lip. “Want to ride you bareback.”

Jared’s eyes darkened with lust. “Whatever you want,” he said.

Jensen coated Jared’s dick with lube and then straddled his hips and lowered himself inch by inch until he was sitting on Jared’s thighs. He gave himself a moment to adjust and then began to rock himself up and down, his hands on Jared’s chest.

Jared held himself still as long as he could and then he wrapped his hands around Jensen’s hips and began to thrust up every time Jensen sank down. Jensen looked spectacular. His hair was sleep-tousled, his eyes were lust-blown and his stomach muscles rippled as he rode Jared hard. For Jared it was all too much and he came hard, pumping into Jensen again and again as he spilled deep inside him, hot and wet. That was all it took to send Jensen over the edge as well, and as Jared filled him, he painted his own stomach white. Jared looked up at him adoringly.

“Love you,” he said.

Jensen lifted his head and grinned. “Ditto.”


	7. Chapter 7

**S** ince the night they’d first gone ‘the whole way’ together, Jared and Jensen hadn’t spent a single night apart, and Jared was seriously considering buying himself a new bed. They did mostly sleep at Jensen’s place, but they slept at Jeff and Sam’s often enough for his single bed to have become irritating; it really wasn’t built with two big guys in mind.

Jared had worked late the night before and would be working late again that night, so he had most of the day off. Frustratingly, Jensen had what he termed an ‘afternoon delight’ client, so they weren’t going to see a lot of each other that day.

Jared put down the book he’d been staring unseeingly at and looked long and hard at his bed. Maybe he could surprise Jensen with a new bed. At the very least, he could go and have a look around that discount furniture place over on Sunset.  

Jared climbed to his feet, stretched, and then changed from his ratty old sweat pants into charcoal-grey jeans and put a black button-down on over the top of his white tee-shirt. He ran a quick hand through his hair (it was really getting quite long, but he rather liked it) and then looked between his black slip-ons, his sneakers and his flip-flops, before reluctantly deciding that for a four mile walk, he couldn’t really wear flip-flops.

Jared calculated that the walk to Sunset Discount Furniture Mart would probably take him about half an hour and he was looking forward to it. Back at home and when he’d been in the monastery, he’d walked a lot; several miles every day. Since coming to Hollywood he’d barely walked at all and he missed it. He headed downstairs first and let Sam know where he was going and then set off, whistling, with a spring in his step. It was a nice day and despite the fact that he had to walk through some less than salubrious neighborhoods to get where he was going, Jared enjoyed the walk.

By the time the furniture mart was in sight, Jared was starving, so he headed into the Burger King opposite and got himself a triple whopper sandwich meal which he ate quickly, before heading into the massive and (if he were honest with himself) somewhat intimidating, warehouse.

Jared wandered through the bedding section for quite some time. There were some sturdy, masculine, king-sized beds which he could really imagine himself and Jensen sleeping in, but which absolutely wouldn’t fit in Jared’s small bedroom. Jared sighed. He wandered from one section to another for a while, looking not just at beds, but also at dining settings, sofas and armchairs, televisions and bookshelves. For the first time ever, Jared wondered whether moving out into his own place was an option. The bank account his parents had set up for him had a substantial amount of money in it; it was certainly something he could afford to do. He just wasn’t sure that he’d like to live alone. Should he ask Jensen to move in with him? Or would that be moving too fast? And what about Chris? He and Jensen had lived together forever. Would Chris resent him if Jensen moved in with Jared?

 Jared wandered back to the bedding section and tested out a few of the smaller beds. In the end, he settled on a wooden-framed double bed and paid extra for next day delivery.

He began his walk home feeling pleased with himself, and looking forward to the expression on Jensen’s face when he saw the new bed. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice the stretch limo until it had pulled up right beside him and the door had been flung open into his path.

Inside the limousine was his father.

Jared blinked.

“Get in,” said his dad. “We need to talk.”

“I, uh,” Jared tried to side-step the door, but a dark-suited man with an earpiece moved up close behind him and put a hand to Jared’s shoulder, guiding him into the car and shutting the door behind him. Jared tried to open it again, but it wouldn’t open. He turned to his father. “Let me out.”

His father rapped on the glass in between the passenger area and the driver and the car took off.

Jared glared. “I’m serious,” he said. “Let me out. I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

His father looked him up and down imperiously. “Then just listen,” he paused (a little dramatically, Jared thought). “I hear you’re no longer right with the Lord.”

Jared’s face flushed as he wondered who had been saying what about him to his dad. “The Lord and I are just fine,” he said coolly. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about _your_ relationship with God.”

Thomas Gibson Garcia drew himself upright and fixed Jared with a haughty expression.

“I’ve done nothing to offend the Lord,” he said, “you, however; are a sodomite; an abomination. You need to repent your sins, Jared, and ask God for forgiveness.”

Jared gaped at him. “Seriously? You’ve done nothing to… _You cheated on your wife!_ Even worse, you hired an underage prostitute!”

“So you don’t even deny it?” his father thundered, his eyes full of righteous indignation. “You admit that you’re an abomination?”

Jared shook his head. “I’m gay, if that’s what you mean. I don’t agree that I’m an abomination.”

“You can’t pick and choose—”

“People do it all the time. Adultery’s a sin, you know. Do you deny being guilty of that?”

His dad had the audacity to look hurt at the accusation.

“Men have needs,” he said. “God didn’t make women with those same needs. And God understands that. Did he not tell David that if his wives and concubines were not enough, God would give him more? A good wife understands—”

“That’s bullshit!” Jared cut him off, “theologically inaccurate, self-serving, sexist bullshit.”

His father slapped his face, not hard, but enough to sting and make Jared have to blink back tears. “You watch your mouth, boy,” his father said.

“Let me out,” Jared said, yanking uselessly at the door handle.

“You’re not gay, Jared,” his dad said. “I won’t allow it.”

Jared snorted. “My sexuality isn’t something you actually get a say in.”

“You’ll go back into the monastery,” his father continued, as if Jared hadn’t spoken, “or you’ll go to a re-orientation facility. Those are your only options.”

“No,” Jared shook his head.

“I’m not giving you a choice,” his dad said, so sure of himself. So sure that his will would be done.

Jared laughed. “You’re not in a position to influence my choices. I’m not going back into the monastery and I’m not going to a re-orientation facility. Now let me out.”

“I won’t be the father of an abomination,” his dad snarled. “If you won’t get help, then I will officially disown you and I’ll cut you off completely. You won’t get a cent of my money. Let’s see how your gold-digging whore likes you then!”

Jared went cold. “Excuse me?”

His father’s lip curled in a sneer. “You think I didn’t do my due diligence? You think I didn’t have complete background checks done on everyone who’s attached themselves to you since you left the security of our home?”

His dad pulled a briefcase that had been sitting at his feet up onto his lap. Inside were a half-dozen files. Jared could see Jeff’s name, Sam’s, Chad’s, Chris’s, Danni’s, Gen’s, Misha’s and Mark Pellegrino’s. But the biggest file, by far, had Jensen’s name written on it.

His dad lifted Jensen’s file and held it out to him. “Do you want to read it?”

Jared shook his head.

“Do you know that he’s a whore? An _actual_ whore, not merely a metaphorical gold-digging whore. This man,” his dad stabbed at the file with his forefinger, “has sexual relations with men for money. Did you know that?”

 Jared didn’t respond.

“Are _you_ paying him?”

Jared shook his head.

His dad harrumphed. “I guess he’s looking for a more long term payout from you. Maybe you’ll set him up in his own condo, or maybe he thinks he can blackmail you, threaten to send compromising photos of you to me or to the press.”

“Jensen’s not like that,” Jared said. “We love each other.”

His dad threw back his head and laughed. “Oh you poor, miserable sap,” he said. “He’s really got his hooks into you, hasn’t he? A whore will tell you whatever you want to hear, you naïve fool. I expect he’ll lose interest when he finds out you’ve been cut off without a cent.”

“You can’t do that,” Jared began, but his father interrupted

“Oh yes, I can. And I will. If you don’t get help.”

Jared shook his head. “ _You_ can cut me off, sure,” he said, “but mom—she knows about my boyfriend, by the way, and she’s very supportive—mom transferred a lot of money into my bank account, and that’s not something you can touch. I might not get money from you, but I won’t be without a cent,” Jared took a deep breath. “So go ahead; do it. Cut me off. Disown me. I don’t really want to be associated with a pedophile anyway.”

The smack across his face was so hard that Jared’s head snapped sideways, and then he tasted blood and realized that he’d bitten his tongue.  His father…no…he didn’t deserve that title… _Thomas_ …was glowering at him. Jared met his eyes and they sat for a moment watching each other carefully. Jared resisted the temptation to start prodding at his aching cheekbone because he didn’t want to give _Thomas_ the satisfaction of knowing that he’d hurt him.

“Let me out, please,” he said, as politely as he could manage.

Thomas rapped out a pattern on the security screen and the limo sped up. A short while later it came to a stop and Thomas pressed a button on his side of the car and released the lock on Jared’s side. Jared barely kept himself from flinching when Thomas leaned across him and flung the door open.

Jared slid towards the door and then paused. “For the record,” he said, “Jensen has no clue who I am and he’s got enough money of his own. We really are in love. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Get out,” Thomas said, his face purple and his eyes dark slits of fury.

Jared scrambled from the car and then sprawled hard onto the sidewalk when he was shoved roughly from behind. The car door slammed shut and the limo sped off.

Jared sat up slowly.

“Jared? Fuck! You okay, man?”

Jared looked up. He was a couple of blocks away from Jensen’s usual beat, in the part of town where the youngest, cheapest, most desperate hookers hung out.

He recognized the two girls who were cautiously approaching him. Sierra and Devani were coffee van regulars and despite still being kids themselves, they both had children who they’d lost to children’s services.

“I’m okay,” Jared said as Sierra reached out a hand and helped him to his feet.

“You turnin’ tricks now, Jare?” Devani said, hands on hips and eyebrows raised.

“Course he ain’t, you stupid Ho,” Sierra said scathingly. “Jared’s a good boy.”

 Jared brushed off his pants. “That was my dad. Ex Dad, I guess, seeing as how ‘no son of his’ is gay. He just stopped by to haul me off the street, disown me, and tell me I’m an abomination.”

Sierra nodded. “I seen that limo round here before, I swear it. You think maybe your old man’s a curb-crawlin’ creep?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Jared said.

“How you know it was the same limo?” Devani demanded. “All them fancy cars look the same to me.”

Sierra shrugged. “ _Could_ be the same one, is all I’m sayin’,” she reached out and tentatively touched Jared’s cheek. “He do that?”

Jared nodded.

“You gonna have one hell of a bruise, Boyfriend. You ice it good when you get home.”

Jared promised that he would and hugged them both tightly before heading back to Jeff and Sam’s place. He was sure that Thomas had meant to humiliate him by throwing him from the car in front of a group of hookers, but Thomas had actually done him a favor; he was now a lot closer to home than he’d been when the limo had picked him up. Jared smiled to himself as he walked. And luckily for him, he had friends in low places.

\--

The cab was already waiting by the time Jensen got outside and he limped over to it and got in, giving the driver Jared’s address rather than his own.

The cab driver was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt and had a full beard, dark with grey flecks throughout. Jensen met his concerned brown eyes in the rear view mirror.

“Are you okay, Sir?” The driver’s accent was thick and foreign. From Iraq maybe, or Afghanistan, Jensen guessed.

“Yeah,” Jensen cleared his throat. “Strained myself playing racket ball.”

 You could never be sure of course, but Jensen suspected that a middle-aged, middle-eastern man wouldn’t be comfortable with the real story.

In reality, the man in apartment 14b was Jensen’s absolute least favorite client. He was a non-descript white guy, average height, average weight, average looks, with short sandy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. The glasses were actually the most memorable thing about him. Without them, Jensen suspected he could’ve passed him on the street a hundred times and not recognized him, despite the fact that he’d been fucking the guy for two years.

Joe (no really, it wasn’t even a fake name, Jensen had gone through his wallet once, just to be sure) had questionable hygiene practices. He’d usually showered by the time Jensen arrived, but not always. If he hadn’t, Jensen could usually persuade him that they should take a shower together before they got started, but not always. Today he’d refused to shower. And then he’d wanted Jensen to rim him. Joe knew the rules; no rimming without Sarin wrap unless Jensen had seen him clean himself. Joe was out of Sarin wrap and he threw a hissy fit worthy of an A-lister when Jensen refused to rim him. When the shouting and raging finally died down, Jensen gave him a tight smile. “I don’t need your shit, Joe,” he said (quite brilliantly Jensen thought, given that he was being both literal and figurative). “You’re off my client list.”

Joe’s face was incredulous and Jensen might have found it funny if not for the hard kick to his balls and rain of blows to his ribs and kidneys which followed.

When the taxi pulled up outside the drop-in center, Jared was at the front door with his keys out. Jensen paid and tipped the driver and then tumbled out of the car, calling for his boyfriend.

Jared smiled brightly, his expression darkening when he saw that Jensen was limping.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“Got kicked in the balls, and then punched, by a guy who’s now an ex-client.”

Jensen reached up and took hold of Jared’s chin, tilting his head gently to the side. “You walk into a door, Jared?”

Jared shook his head. “Had a run in with my dad. Come on upstairs and I’ll tell you about it.”

Jensen was predictably furious about Jared’s dad’s hypocrisy and the suggestion that Jared should go to a re-orientation facility upset him a lot.

“You’re not going to one of those places,” he said, his face pinched with anger and his eyes swimming with horror. “They’ll have to fucking _kill_ me before I’ll let them send you somewhere like that.”

“Relax,” Jared rubbed a hand across Jensen’s incredibly tense shoulders. “I’ll be nineteen in a couple of months. I’d have to consent to go to somewhere like that, and I’m not going to.”

“Good,” Jensen said, his voice trembling with emotion.

They were sitting on the sofa, curled around each other, a packet of frozen peas held against Jensen’s stomach and ribs and a packet of frozen sweetcorn held against Jared’s cheek.

“You don’t have to answer this,” Jared said, “but,” he paused, “did, uh, your parents send you somewhere like that?”

Jensen tensed against him and then breathed out slowly.

“Yeah,” he said. “My mom sent me. She, uh, she had cancer and she wanted me to ‘get cured’ before she…before she passed,” Jensen swallowed. “She was scared of what my dad would do to me if he figured it out.”

Jared gripped his boyfriend tighter. “And did he figure it out?”

Jensen shook his head. “Mama died three weeks after I got back from Crossroads. I left right after the funeral. I knew what I was gonna have to do to survive and I knew I could do it, so I just thought, fuck it, you know?”

Jared didn’t ask how Jensen knew that he was capable of prostituting himself. He suspected that it probably had a lot to do with why his boyfriend wasn’t on speaking terms with God, as well as his complete lack of faith in religion and his hatred of hypocrisy.

Jensen sighed and adjusted the frozen peas. “I just…as crazy as it sounds, I needed somewhere that I would be safe to just be myself. Back home, I couldn’t be me. There just wasn’t a safe space anywhere. Whether I was at home or at school or at Church or at baseball…it was like I was constantly being forced to sit the ‘how to be a real man’ pop quiz and there were a million ways to fail. Was I walking wrong? Was I holding my arms wrong, being too limp-wristed?  Was my voice wrong? Were my eyes straying to look at other guys? Was I giving the wrong response when the other guys talked shit about girls? Was I interested in the wrong things? Not interested in the right things? It was exhausting. I was acting all the time. Being hyper vigilant all the time. And I just thought…I’d rather fuck strangers for money and be myself than have to live like this for the rest of my life, terrified every minute of every day that my dad’s gonna find out and bash me to death.”

Jared held him tighter than ever and dropped a gentle kiss on top of his head.

“You are the strongest, most resilient guy I know,” he began.

Jensen groaned. “You’re not gonna start comparing me to flowers again, are you?”

“Depends,” Jared said. “Are you gonna blush for me again?”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.”

Jared sniggered as he watched a pink flush settle on his boyfriend’s cheeks. “There’s my pretty pink orchid,” he teased.

“I’ll pretty pink orchid, you,” Jensen retorted.

Jared pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, okay. That made no sense, but whatever you say, Jensen.” He put the frozen corn that he’d been holding against his face onto the side table. “How’s your stomach?”

Jensen pulled a face. “Sore.”

“Are you working tonight?”

Jensen shook his head. “I’ve got a gig lined up, but I’m gonna cancel. The client likes it rough and I’m just not in the mood.”

Jared was relieved to hear it. He didn’t like the idea of Jensen seeing a client when he was hurt.

“You should come and help me and Jeff with the coffee van,” he said.

“Maybe. I think I’ll get you and Jeff to drop me off at home after supper. I’m gonna take a long soak in my tub and then I’m gonna go and see Sebastian. He’s been texting me about some producer who saw my picture in the exhibition and really wants to talk to me. I might stop by the coffee van after that.”

“A producer?” Jared sat up straighter. “As in…a movie producer?”

Jensen shrugged. “Don’t get too excited, Jare. He probably just wants to fuck me. Besides, I’m not interested in being in any movies. I’d hate to have to live under a spotlight; I like my privacy too much.”

Jared was really glad that Jensen couldn’t see his face right then, because he was certain that he looked as guilty as he felt. Because eventually his mom was going to want to meet Jensen. And Thomas not only knew about him, he knew how Jensen made a living; that was definitely something he’d exploit if he thought it could gain him ground in the divorce. His parents being who they were, if he and Jensen stayed together, Jared didn’t think any power in the universe could save Jensen from being dragged into a very bright, very public spotlight.

The honorable thing to do would be to come clean. To tell Jensen the truth and let him walk away if he wanted to. Jared took a deep breath. He looked into the wide, green, trusting eyes of the most beautiful, most amazing man he’d ever met, and couldn’t do it.

\--

Sebastian’s door was probably unlocked, but this wasn’t a ‘boyfriend experience’, so Jensen had no intention of just walking inside. Instead he knocked and waited until Sebastian answered the door.

Sebastian’s expression was grave and Jensen knew immediately that whatever this producer wanted from him, he wasn’t going to like it.

“Hello, Darling,” Sebastian said, kissing him on both cheeks and ushering him inside. “Can I get you a coffee?”

Jensen took a seat on the sofa and watched Sebastian work the coffee machine on the island bench. The photographer’s shoulders were stiff with tension as he set out cups, ground coffee beans and filled the machine’s filter handle with ground coffee.

The coffee began to drip and Sebastian tapped his fingers on the stone bench top. “Not working tonight, then?” he said conversationally.

Jensen said that he wasn’t, with a fixed smile that didn’t reach his eyes. His _work_ wasn’t something he wanted to discuss.

Sebastian nodded as if he’d said something profound and they waited in silence for the coffee to be ready. When it was, Sebastian carried the cups into the living room on a small silver tray. He handed Jensen a tall, black, unsweetened coffee and it occurred to Jensen that Sebastian hadn’t had to ask; that he knew how he liked his coffee. Jensen looked up and gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks.”

Sebastian smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

Jensen took a sip of his coffee and then put it on the side table and leaned forward. “So about this producer…?”

Seb’s smile faded fast. “Mark Sheppard first rang the day after the Exhibition Opening and asked me if I could put him in contact with you. I asked him why he wanted to speak with you and he told me that was between him and you,” Sebastian took a sip of his coffee and rubbed nervously at his chin. “I’ve known Mark since college and something about the way he asked just seemed a little off to me, so I didn’t bother you with his request. He rang again a week later and this time he was prepared to tell me that he had a proposition for you, one that would give you the opportunity to make a substantial amount of money. He said I ought to at least let you know that he was looking to speak with you and let you decide for yourself. So, finally, I did. You said you weren’t interested and I let him know. And that was when the daily phone calls started.”

Jensen nodded. Seb had texted him a couple of times in the past week and asked him to meet with the guy and tell him personally that he wasn’t interested, just to shut him up.

“This morning,” Sebastian continued, “he called and told me that if I didn’t facilitate a meeting with you immediately, he would contact the police and accuse me of distributing child pornography,” Sebastian’s voice wavered and nearly broke.  “He said, ‘We know that some of the boys in your nude photographs are as young as fifteen and we can prove it’. I tried to tell him it was just art, erotic art, sure, but not, not…” Sebastian raised a shaky hand to his mouth and choked back a sob.

Jensen rubbed a hand across his chin. “’We’? Are you sure the guy’s really a producer? Sounds like a shakedown to me.”

Sebastian nodded. “Oh yes. Mark has produced some pretty big blockbusters over the years. But this ‘we’ business…I don’t know.  Perhaps it is some sort of shakedown. Will you at least talk to him, Jensen?”

Jensen thought about it. Technically, art or not, Sebastian was guilty as charged. And maybe he _should_ be punished for some of the photographs that he’d taken; some of them were a little too kinky to be classed as art, in Jensen’s opinion.

The reality of the situation was a little more complicated, though. There would always be kids like Jensen, kids who needed to do some pretty awful things to survive. And there would always be people willing and able to take advantage of that. Sebastian was less of a predator and far less harmful than a lot of the other men out there. Within the context of their reality, he actually did more good than harm, although the social workers would probably disagree.

Jensen was acutely aware that he’d had a lot of lucky breaks. Hooking up with Chris so early on had kept him safe from the worst of the horrors that an underage hooker could suffer, and the modelling he’d done for Sebastian had given him real options. Without him, Jensen’s dreams of college would be just that; dreams.

Okay, some of the kinky poses he’d had to do for some of the photos had been a little embarrassing; but it could’ve been so much worse. Sebastian had never hurt him and Jensen didn’t want to see him humiliated or punished. He owed the guy a lot.

Besides, he was also a little curious. This Mark Sheppard was going to an awful lot of trouble to talk to him.

 Jensen nodded slowly. “Set it up,” he said. “Call him now and tell him that I’m at your place and I’m gonna be here for the next fifteen minutes. If he wants to talk to me, he’d better get here quick.”

For a moment, Sebastian looked like he might cry. “Thank you,” he said, his bottom lip trembling. He glanced up at the ceiling and pulled himself together with obvious effort, before taking his cell phone out of his pocket.  He began to key in a number and then stopped and met Jensen’s eyes. “For what it’s worth, I am so very sorry, Jensen. When we met…I could’ve given you the help you needed with no strings attached. But I was selfish. And I wanted you. In my bed. In my life. You’re a good person, Jensen. A far better person than I am.”

Jensen smiled at him and shook his head. “Honestly? If you’d tried to help me without strings back then, I’d’ve run a million miles. I had trust issues. Actually, if it wasn’t for Jared, I’d probably still have trust issues.”

Sebastian made the call and exactly fifteen minutes later Mark Sheppard arrived. Jensen recognized him immediately as the dark-haired, dark-eyed Gofer who’d been watching Jared intently at the Exhibition Opening. He was dressed in a silver-grey suit and a black peacoat and was carrying a leather briefcase.

“Jensen,” he said, and Jensen was surprised by his accent. “Let’s talk.”

British. The guy was British.

“We have nothing to talk about,” Jensen said. “I’m here as a courtesy; as a favor to Sebastian; to tell you that I’m not interested. I like my privacy, Mark; I’m not interested in making movies. And I’m not interested in fucking you or one of your stars or whatever it is you have in mind. So thank you, but no thank you.”

Mark nodded. He sat down opposite Jensen, put the briefcase onto his lap and opened it. It was packed with money. A lot of money. A frightening amount of money.

Jensen raised his eyes slowly to Mark’s. “I don’t,” he cleared his throat. “I’m not…whatever you want me to do, if you’re offering that kind of money, I don’t want any part of it. Don’t tell me anything about it. Please. Just go.”

“This is from a friend of mine,” Mark said, “and to him it’s chump change. All he wants you to do is stop seeing Jared Gumm.”

 Jensen frowned. “What? Jared? Why?”

“My friend is his father. And he finds your relationship with Jared concerning. You are, not to put too fine a point on it, a whore. And Jared is an innocent and naïve young man. You’re obviously only in it for money, so Jared’s father would like to pay you to go away.”

Jensen nodded and got to his feet. “Is this the same father who punched Jared for being gay, disowned him, pushed him from a car and threatened to send him to a re-orientation facility? The same father who cheated on his wife?”

Mark’s eyes widened as Jensen reached out and smacked the briefcase shut.

“You can tell your friend to take his money and shove it up his ass. Now get out.”

“Oh dear,” said Mark, reclining comfortably in his seat. “You have absolutely no idea, do you?”

Jensen frowned at him.

“You have no idea who Jared’s father is, do you? He didn’t tell you, did he? Didn’t tell you who he really is?”

Jensen felt a cold, hard lump of ice begin to grow deep in his belly.

“Who is he?”

Mark’s smile was predatory. “Jared Gumm is the oldest child of Thomas Gibson Garcia and Catherine J Monaghan.”

The ice began to spread throughout Jensen’s body.

“So good luck with your cherished privacy,” Mark continued, “because it’s only a matter of time until _everything_ about you hits the tabloids, front page news. If I were you,” he re-opened the briefcase, “I’d take the money and run.”

Jensen punched him. Hard. And then he left.


	8. Chapter 8

**W** hen Jeff had arrived home earlier that afternoon, Jared and Jensen had still been curled up on the sofa together.

Jeff had taken Jared’s bruised face in stride, listening to him explain what had happened calmly and clinically, and asking sympathetic questions.

Sam, when she’d come in just after supper, had been furious. She’d fussed about Jared like a mama bear, putting the now-soggy peas and corn back in the freezer and coming out with a couple of icepacks that had been hidden in a compartment of the freezer that Jared hadn’t noticed. She gave him one and then handed one to Jensen.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you’re holding yourself,” she said when Jensen gave her a startled look. “Anything I need to take a look at?”

Jensen blushed. “No ma’am.”

Sam snorted. “I’m Sam, not ma’am. Does it hurt to pee? Is there blood in your urine?”

Jensen shook his head. He looked positively mortified at the attention, so Jared called it back to himself, pouting a little and complaining that his face hurt, which in retrospect wasn’t such a good idea, because Sam’s fury returned full force and she started insisting that he call the police and have his father charged with assault.

Jensen cleared his throat. “Uh, Jeff? I, uh, have to go. Would you mind giving me a lift? Sorry,” he glanced apologetically at Jared. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Sam was still trying to persuade Jared to press charges when Jeff got back from dropping Jensen at home, but Jared really didn’t want the drama of it all. She did persuade him to call his mom and what a painful conversation that had been. His mom had cried and then she’d got her lawyer on the other line and Jared ended up handing the phone to Sam and fleeing into his bedroom.

Jeff knocked on his door a few minutes later.

“I’m going to head out to do the coffee van,” he said. “If you’re not feeling up to it—”   

“I’m fine,” said Jared, getting up off the bed and putting on his shoes and jacket. “I got slapped. It’s not a big deal.”

Jeff leaned in the door way and folded his arms. “It kind of is, kiddo,” he said. “You were kidnapped, imprisoned, physically assaulted and had some pretty hurtful things said to you by someone you should’ve been able to trust. That’s a big deal, Jared.”

Jared shrugged. “Right. Well. At least now I can relate to our clients a little better, huh?”

Jeff smiled at him with sad eyes.

They set up the van across from Jensen’s usual beat and Jared lost himself in the familiarity of the work, making coffees, handing out free sandwiches and condoms, and bantering with the customers.

When a casually-dressed guy in his late twenties sidled up to the van, Jeff side-eyed him suspiciously.

“How much for a coffee and a sandwich?” the guy asked.

Jeff raised an eyebrow and glanced briefly at Jared before explaining that they weren’t selling food, they were doing outreach work with the homeless and sex workers.

“Right,” the guy nodded. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a notepad and a pen. “You run _Per vias rectas_. Jeff Morgan, right?”

Jeff glanced at Jared again. “That’s right. And you are?”

The guy put the pen in his mouth and stuck out a hand. “Richard Speight,” he said around the pen. “I’m a reporter with the New York Post.”

Jeff ran a hand over his jaw. “New York Post, huh? You’re a long way from home.”

Richard raised an eyebrow and spread his arms wide. “Oh come on now, Jeff. We’re all part of the great big global village these days, aren’t we?”

 “What do you want?” Jeff asked.

The reporter grinned widely. “Hi,” he said, holding out a hand to Jared. “Richard. Pleasure to meet you.”

Jared took his hand. “Jared.”

“Jared Gumm, right?”  Richard said. “Adopted son of Thomas Gibson Garcia and Catherine J Monaghan?”

Jared stared at him.

“So tell me, Jared, for the record: is it true that you’re gay? And given your father’s well-publicized homophobic rants, how does he feel about having a gay son?”

“Seriously?” Jeff said, with a scowl that most people would probably have found intimidating.

Richard merely shrugged. “What can I say? The boss likes gossip, sensationalism and controversy and Thomas Gibson Garcia provides that in spades.”

Jared swallowed.  He looked across at Jeff and then ran a hand through his hair.

“Richard, was it?”

The reporter nodded.

“Okay, Richard. Look. I’m working right now. I’d, uh, be happy to give you an interview, but not right now. Maybe you could stop by the drop-in center tomorrow?”

“Yeaaahhh,” Richard stretched out the word, “and give you time to line up one of mommy and daddy’s lawyers to make sure you don’t say a word? I don’t think so. I—”

“ _Jared_!”

Jensen. And he was heading right at Jared, fists clenched at his sides and his face pinched tight with fury.

“Jensen? What’s wrong?”

“You lied to me!”

“Jensen,” Jeff tried to intercede, “this isn’t the time or the—” 

Jensen whirled on him, and for the first time in a long while, Jeff saw Dean, the tough, aggressive street kid who’d earned the respect of everyone in the network of streets that made up his home turf.

“Shut the fuck up,” the street kid growled, before turning back to Jared.

“Who _are_ you, Jared? Tell me the truth. Who are your parents?”

Jared’s heart was pounding. This was bad. This was so bad. Jensen was beyond furious. And there was a reporter. Watching it all. He hung his head and fought back the tears that were threatening.

“Were you even gonna tell me?” Jensen’s voice was barely a whisper. “Or was I just gonna find out when we made front page news in the tabloids?”

Jared lifted his head. Yes. Good point. Jensen needed to be warned. “Yeah, uh. About that. This guy’s a reporter,” he nodded at Richard who smiled widely and flourished his notepad.

“Jensen, was it? Are you the boyfriend? How did you and Jared meet?”

Jensen’s eyes widened. “You! You were at Sebastian’s Opening! Are you working with Mark Sheppard?”

Richard frowned. “The producer?” And then his mouth fell. “Holy shit. You’re one of Roche’s models, aren’t you?” The reporter rubbed at his chin, and looked around him, taking in the loitering street trade. “There are rumors that he uses underage models, street whores that he picks up and—”

And, oh shit. Jared threw himself out from behind the trestle table and in between Jensen and Richard, because Jensen was launching himself forward, swearing like a ghetto gangsta and very clearly gearing up to start throwing punches.

“Chill out, man. This isn’t helping,” Jared caught ahold of Jensen and tried to restrain him. Jared might’ve been a little taller, and he’d been working out for a few weeks, but he still wasn’t a match for Jensen physically, especially when the older man was spitting like an alley cat.  Jeff, meanwhile, was trying to guide Richard away from where Jared was struggling to contain a snarling, completely out-of-control Jensen. Richard, though, was refusing to leave, madly scribbling down notes as a small crowd of sex workers gathered to watch the show.

“Stop it, Jensen, please,” Jared said tearfully. “Please calm down. I love you, man.”

Jensen went limp in his arms and then pushed himself away from Jared.

“You don’t love me,” he said. “You couldn’t.”

“I do. I love you Jensen.”

 “Bullshit,” Jensen’s eerie calm was even more frightening than his rage had been. “You wanted to _fuck_ me, just like everybody else,” he threw his arms out wide. “At least they all were honest about it. They wanted a fuck, they paid for it, and that was that. But you? You pretended to be someone you weren’t. Just some ordinary kid with asshole parents, tryin’ a figure out if he was gay. And all the time… You lied to me, Jared. And you fucked up my fresh start, because I can never have that now. Never. So screw you.”

Jensen turned and began to walk away and Jared followed him.

“Jensen, please,” he reached out a hand and grabbed at Jensen’s shoulder.

Jensen spun around and was in Jared’s face so fast that Jared was stunned silent.

“You don’t need to be all up in my grill,” he hissed, and he was all Dean; Jared couldn’t see even a trace of Jensen.  “Back the fuck off and leave me alone, ‘less you want me to smack you down hard.”

Jared blinked back tears. “I love you, Jensen,” he said.

Jensen laughed and turned away. And then he hauled his arm around and punched Jared in the face.

“Fuck you,” he said coldly, before turning and walking briskly away.

\--

Jensen was a block and a half away when the panic attack hit.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_! He lurched to a stop and bent at the waist, sucking in harsh gasps of air. Oh God. Oh fucking God. He’d _hit_ Jared. He’d fucking hit _Jared_.

He’d always promised himself that he’d never hit his partner, never hit his children if he had any, and the first serious boyfriend his has, at the first sign of trouble he clocks him in the face. God. He’s an asshole.

The remorse hit hard. And it was swiftly followed by grief. He…he _cared_ about Jared. A lot. And he’d had this sort of dream that they could maybe make some kind of life together. But now? Now that was fucked. Now that could never happen. Because Jared’s parents were famous. Beyond famous. They were Hollywood royalty. Every move they made was reported on E! News, talked about in the gossip mags, and even made it onto the news sometimes. And their kids have always been this big fucking mystery; it would be naïve to think the media won’t be all over Jared like a fucking rash, picking through his life, unearthing every bit of gossip and scandal they can find. He can see the headline now: _Homophobe Thomas Gibson Garcia’s gay son dating whore!_ No-one was going to care about Jensen, but he’d be fucked by the crossfire all the same. Outed to the entire world, forever branded a whore.

The only reason he’d been able to do this job in the first place was that he knew he could get away from it, knew that he could leave it all behind and move on to a new, clean, fresh life. Now? He’s going to be Jensen the Whore forever.

Jensen started hyperventilating again. He struggled to regulate his breathing and when he had it sort of under control he staggered into a nearby alley and leaned against the wall beside the dumpsters. The cold, rough brick felt reassuringly familiar and even the rotting garbage and stale Chinese takeout smell of the dumpsters was grounding. Hookers sometimes brought tricks into this particular alley—he’d brought them here himself, although not for years—but right now, it was empty. Jensen got out his cigarettes with trembling fingers and lit up. He sagged against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to let the smooth, creamy smoke soothe him. But all he could see behind his eyelids was Jared’s shocked face, his puppy dog eyes liquid with hurt.

It was going to be alright. He was going to be alright. Everything would look better in the morning. He…who was he trying to kid? Oh, that’s right. Himself.

Jensen took a final drag on his cigarette and squashed it underfoot. He wanted to go to Jared and hold him, stroke his hair and tell him how sorry he was. He wanted Jared to hold him and tell him that everything would be okay, that it was all a misunderstanding, he didn’t really have famous parents. He wanted to cry on Sam’s shoulder and have her hold him tight. But he was the bad guy. She’d want Jared to have him charged with assault. There would be no comfort for Jensen; not from Sam. Not that he deserved it. And besides, he wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t.

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here.”

Jensen opened his eyes. His belly churned as he took in the three men standing before him in a semi-circle. He didn’t know their real names, but on the streets the big black guy was known as Walker and he and Jensen had history. He ran a stable of hookers for Pellegrino, all girls, and he’d wanted to branch out into guys; had targeted Jensen to be the first. Most male hookers didn’t have a pimp and Jensen hadn’t wanted one, but Walker wouldn’t take no for an answer. So Jensen had a quiet word to Kurt Evans, his pal down at Vice, and Walker got picked up for carrying concealed, which was also a parole violation. It got him two years in County and even though he’d never been able to prove that Jensen was responsible, he’d decided to hate him anyway.

The older white guy was known as Freddy G and he was high enough up the Pellegrino gang’s food chain that Jensen had never had any dealings with him before.

Jensen didn’t recognize the Hispanic guy, but he was taller and broader than Clif, the bouncer-cum-strippers’ bodyguard down at _Whiskey and Rye_ , which Jensen figured didn’t bode well for the comfort of his immediate future.

“Hey, boys,” he said, getting out his cigarettes and lighter again. “It’s five hundred for a gang bang, and you pay for the motel room. You’re gonna have to wait though; I’m takin’ a smoke break.”

Walker glowered at him. “I don’t swing that way, Fag. Although,” he tilted his head and sneered, “your lips could easy be a girl’s, if I closed my eyes.” 

The Hispanic guy said something in Spanish and Freddy G shook his head.

“Hi Dean,” he said to Jensen. “I trust you know why we’re having this little get-together?”

Jensen tilted his head to one side. “I’d like to think it’s because of my perky nipples.”

Freddy G stared evenly at him and then gave him a thin, watery smile. “You think you’re funny?”

Jensen grinned. “I think I’m adorable.”

Freddy G showed his teeth. “We’ll see how adorable you look when we’ve finished with you, huh? Matias?” He nodded at Mountain Man and the big Hispanic guy stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.

“Gonna enjoy this, Pretty Boy,” he said.

Jensen rolled his eyes. “Monologuing? Really? Okay, sure. Tell me all your evil plans.”

 Matias sneered at him. “You assed out, Puto. I’ma bust you up good.”

“Wait!” Jensen said, as Matias moved toward him. “Maybe we can make a deal?”

Freddy G laughed. “You don’t have anything we want, Dean. Come on now, boy, don’t look so shocked. You knew this was coming. That’s why you’ve been in hiding.”

Jensen nodded. “Right. I’ve been sitting around all day writing sad poems about how I’m gonna get my ass kicked. I’m working on one now. Let’s see, what rhymes with ‘Fuck you’?”

Matias came at him and Jensen ducked into him, twisting up and jamming the lit butt of his cigarette right into Matias’s eye. Matias howled and let go of Jensen, grasping at his face, swearing and staggering backwards blindly.

Walker moved in then and let fly with an upper cut. Jensen’s head slammed backwards and his jaw snapped out of place, and then Walker was on him, pummeling his ribs, his stomach, his face, with fists like concrete blocks, until Jensen dropped to the ground and curled himself into a fetal position. His head spinning, his vision blurring, and his face and torso throbbing and swelling and hurting, Jensen wrapped his arms around his head and tried his best to protect his vital organs. Walker put the boot in then, kicking and snarling, and Jensen tried to keep his gasps and whimpers quiet, tried to ignore the ache in his kidneys and the blood trickling down his neck and the spray of Walker’s sweat every time he let loose with a kick.  A howl was wrenched from Jensen’s unwilling throat as he felt his ribs crack, and after that he didn’t care that he was crying like a little girl, the agony was too much, it was just too much, and Jensen could feel himself going under. The last thing he heard was Osric’s voice, shouting: _Stop it! You’re killing him! Stop it! Jensen!!! No!_ And then Osric screamed, a terrible, inhuman scream, and Jensen lost his battle with consciousness.    

\--

_He feels kind of numb. And that can’t be right. He remembers what happened and there should be pain. A lot of pain. Maybe he’s dead. Maybe that’s why he can’t feel himself. He thinks that he would like to open his eyes, but his eyelids are too heavy. He remembers something about people putting coins on the dead’s eyelids to pay for their boat trip to the afterlife. Maybe that’s why he can’t open his eyes. Although…it’s not an American custom, right? Maybe he’s really a gladiator in ancient Rome. Maybe he’s had lots of lives. That’d be nice, because this one kind of sucked. He thinks he can hear voices, but it doesn’t really matter because he’s very sleepy and thinking is hard and his brain is floaty._

He goes back to sleep.

\--

Jensen woke up to the sound of snoring and the smell of disinfectant. He opened his eyes to the sterile brightness of a hospital room and stared up at the white tiled ceiling for a moment before turning his head to see who was snoring. Chris was hunched on a chair in the corner of the room and for a brief moment, Jensen was bitterly disappointed that it wasn’t Jared. Of course, it couldn’t be anyone but Chris; Chris was his next of kin; his emergency contact. Maybe one day that might have been Jared, but not anymore.

Jensen turned away from Chris and quietly took stock. His ribs were bandaged, there was gauze stuck to his face, and…Jensen reached a hand downwards…they’d put in a catheter. Awesome. He was also hooked up to a PCA pump, which was all sorts of bad. Jensen swallowed and pushed the call button.

The nurse who responded was an older woman, mid-forties at least.

“You’re awake,” she chirped needlessly, taking up his chart and scanning over it. “How are you feeling?”

“Numb,” Jensen said. “What’s in the I.V?”

She gave the answer that Jensen had expected; Morphine.

“Take it out, please,” he said.  

Her eyes shot up and she gave him a hard look. “Recovering addict?”

“Yeah.”

She removed the line quickly and then checked his blood pressure and temperature before removing the catheter too.

There was a jug of water on the side table and she poured him a glass (plastic) and showed him how to raise and lower the bed.

“So when can I get outta here?” he asked as she helped him to sit up.

 She told him that was up to the doctor; that a doctor would be in soon to look him over.

“Your…brother?” she nodded at Chris and Jensen nodded. “He gave us your insurance information. There’s no hurry to leave.”

Jensen snorted. “I fucking hate hospitals.”

She raised a disapproving eyebrow at his language, but didn’t comment. “Is Excedrin Extra Strength alright with you for pain management?” she asked.

  Jensen said that it was. As soon as she’d gone, he turned to Chris. “You can stop pretending now, dude.”

Chris opened his eyes and sat up with a grimace. “Woke up while she was takin’ out the catheter. I was tryin’a give you some privacy.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “So how fucked up am I?”

Chris ran a hand through his hair. “You got three busted ribs. Apart from that, just a heap of bruises and abrasions and a concussion. And dude? I’m sorry about the drip. I didn’t even think to tell ‘em.”

Jensen shrugged. He took a long drink of water and then put the glass on the side table, wincing slightly as his stomach muscles pulled and his ribs strained.

Chris got up from the chair and came and perched on the edge of Jensen’s bed. “Shit, son,” he said. “What the fuck were you thinking? You knew Pellegrino had people looking to fuck you up. Why were you down there without someone to watch your back?”

Jensen shrugged. He didn’t want to tell Chris that he’d had a fight with Jared; that they’d broken up. That would make it too real.

Chris sighed. “Osric’s pretty fucked, you know. He found you and screamed like a mofo; got everyone’s attention. But one of them, an older, white guy, Osric said, tried to burn his eyes out with a cigar while some big black dude held him down. It ain’t,” Chris’s voice broke slightly, “it ain’t lookin’ good. He could go blind from this. ”

“Fuck,” Jensen pressed a hand to his mouth. “Oh fuck. That’s…that’s messed up, man.” He remembered jamming his cigarette into Matias’s eye, the way it had sizzled and Matias had screamed. He remembered hearing Osric’s blood-chilling scream, just before he’d passed out. “Fuck, Chris,” he said. “That’s on me. I jammed my cigarette in this one guy’s eye when he attacked me. Guess they wanted payback, so they took it out on Osric.”

“Yeah. And blinding a witness is probably a smart move. Makes it hard to pick ‘em out of a line up. Course, _you_ know who they are, but they know you ain’t gonna tell.”

   “Right,” Jensen agreed. “Cops’ll pass it off as a trick gone wrong and I’ll let ‘em. I’ll let my pals in Vice know the real score though; they can do whatever they want with the info, but I sure as Hell won’t be testifying.”

Chris got to his feet. “I’ll go and let the others know you’re okay. Let them come in a couple at a time to see you.”

Jensen frowned. “The others?’

Chris raised his eyebrows. “What? You didn’t realize everyone’d be out there in the waiting room? Danni’s been ballin’ her eyes out for hours; Gen and Misha are with her. Felicia’s there, Jared’s fuckin’ beside himself, Jeff and Sam too. We’re your _family_ , man.”

Danni came in first, with Felicia. She cried all over him and hugged him so hard that it made his ribs hurt badly. She’d brought him toiletries and a change of clothes, which he appreciated. Felicia was white-faced and mostly quiet. She told him Osric’s eyes were bandaged, that he’d had surgery and the doctors were quietly hopeful that he’d retain some sight, but they wouldn’t know for sure until the bandages came off.

Gen and Misha stuck their heads in next and brought him a pack of Marlboros and a lighter. Neither of them really seemed to know what to say to him. Gen rambled on about llamas and what eco-friendly pets they were and Misha told him a story about going to the races once and all the horses were in drag. “No joke, Jensen,” he said seriously, “they make them wear dresses. It’s called dressage.”

Jared, Jeff and Sam all came in together, with matching red-rimmed eyes, and Jensen was so ashamed that he could barely look at them.

By the time Sam had cried over him, stroked his hair and fussed over him as if she were his mama, and Jeff had patted his arm and done the gruff, fatherly thing, Jensen had tears running down his cheeks. He didn’t understand why they cared and he didn’t understand why they weren’t mad at him for punching Jared; Jared, who so far hadn’t said a word.

Jeff and Sam left, but Jared stayed, sitting on the chair where Chris had been sleeping earlier. 

“Can we talk?” Jared said.

Jensen looked up at the ceiling. And then he shrugged.

“I’m really, really sorry,” Jared said. “I should’ve told you. I know I should’ve. I was just…scared I’d lose you. Scared you’d back away if you knew who my parents were. I am so sorry, Jensen,” he sucked in a shaky breath. “I love you.”

Goddamn it. He was still fucking crying. Jensen wiped at his face.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” he said when he’d gotten himself together. “That was a dick move.”

“Is there,” Jared hunched forward in the chair and bit at his bottom lip. “Is there a chance? Can we…can we try to…get past this? The whole thing with my parents?”

Jensen looked at him then, and the hopeful, yet sadly resigned look in Jared’s expressive eyes was like a spear through his heart.

“I…I want to,” he said. “But…I’m sorry…I don’t think we can. I don’t wanna be _Jensen the gold digging whore who hooked the innocent rich boy_ for the rest of my life,” Jensen bit at his bottom lip and tried not to look at the pain in Jared’s eyes. “I can’t be with you without the truth coming out and I don’t want that. I want to be able to move on with my life, put all this behind me.”

“I understand.”

Jensen could see Jared’s bottom lip trembling and the way he was wringing his hands together, even though he was trying not to look.

Jared stood up. “We can still be friends though, right?”

Jensen faked a smile. “Sure.”

Jared nodded and walked slowly to the door. He turned around just as he reached it and looked back at Jensen, his face contorted with grief, and tears running down his cheeks. “I love you, Jensen,” he said.

Jensen made himself meet Jared’s eyes. “I love you too,” he said.

\--

Jared couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed half the night going over everything he could’ve done differently; should’ve said differently. The other half of the night he spent crying helplessly into his pillow, trying to muffle the choking sobs that were shaking their way out of his chest and up his throat.

He finally fell asleep just as Jeff was getting up and woke up around midday to the incessant ringing of the doorbell.

Jared hoped that it would be Jensen—ridiculous, really, given that he was in hospital and pretty banged up— and he rushed heedlessly to the intercom, in just his pajamas.

It was the delivery guys from Sunset Discount Furniture Mart with the double bed he’d chosen; the one big enough for him and Jensen to sleep in.

Jared buzzed them in numbly, taking delivery of the bed he’d ordered with such disastrous joy only yesterday. It came in pieces, which he had the guys stand against the wall in his bedroom. He tried not to see it as a metaphor.

The delivery guys took a long sideways look at Jared’s red-rimmed eyes, bruised cheek and general disheveled appearance and wisely kept their mouths shut, doing their job and leaving quickly.

Jared barely noticed them go.

He looked at the bed and went on another crying jag, sinking to his knees on the bedroom floor and weeping fat tears until he had a headache. Break ups _hurt_.

Jared forced himself to his feet and gathered together some clean clothes. He headed to the bathroom to shower and change. And then? Then he would go and visit Jensen. The hospital had two lots of visiting hours: 2 to 3 in the afternoon and 7 to 8 in the evening. Jared would spend every minute he could at the hospital. He loved Jensen and Jensen loved him. Maybe, if he was persistent (in a totally non-stalkery way) Jensen would change his mind.

When Jared walked out of the bathroom Jeff, Sam and that reporter Richard were sitting on the sofa.

Jared frowned. “Who’s looking after downstairs?”

“Alona and Missouri,” Jeff said. “Jared…Richard wants an interview. And I think you should give him one. It’ll give you an opportunity to get out in front of this; have some say into what is said about you.”

Jared looked forlornly at the door and then nodded. It made sense. Maybe he could try to turn this into something positive, turn it into an article about homophobia, with his dad as the bad guy.

“Okay,” he sat down and looked at the reporter expectantly.  

Richard ran a hand over his mouth. “Are you okay, kid?” he said, his voice surprisingly sincere.

Jared faked a smile. “Not really.”

The reporter waited silently for him to elaborate. Jared looked away. He didn’t want to talk about Jensen, about the breakup. But he was going to have to give some explanation for why he was such an emotional wreck. He ran a hand across his mouth.

 “I, uh, I guess now I know how our clients feel.”

Richard frowned. He got out a voice recorder. “Do you mind?” he gestured at the recorder.

“No. Go ahead.”

Richard pressed record. “You are Jared Gumm, adopted son of Thomas Gibson Garcia and Catherine J Monaghan?”

Jared agreed that he was.

“You just told me that you now understand how the clients here at _Per vias rectas_ Drop-in and Outreach Center feel. As I understand it, the drop-in center caters to street kids and the homeless, a lot of whom are prostitutes, and a lot of whom are gay. In light of that, would you mind expanding on why it is that you now understand those clients better?”

Jared ducked his head. Richard wanted a story. One that would capitalize on the gossip, sensationalism and controversy that Thomas Gibson Garcia provided. And he would get it. Jared would keep the focus off himself and Jensen and firmly on Thomas. His dad liked the spotlight; Jared would make sure it shone on him, in his starring role as a homophobic, abusive father and a cheating husband; the villain of the piece.  Jared looked up from beneath his bangs and gave Richard a tremulous smile, letting his puppy dog eyes disarm the man completely.

“Yesterday my dad disowned me,” he began, absently prodding at his bruised cheek.

Richard tracked the movement with his eyes and his lips thinned. Jared watched as the reporter’s mind changed gears, the story morphing (Jared hoped) from an untrue, sensationalist piece about a celebrity’s entitled son sampling the rough trade he was supposed to be helping, to the one Jared wanted him to write; the one about the two-faced hypocrite who was always the first to throw a stone, even at his own son, and who thought the rules didn’t apply to him.

\--

Jared had missed the afternoon visiting hours completely, so he hurried through supper and dashed to the hospital, arriving completely out of breath right on seven o’clock.

Jensen’s room was packed. But the person in the bed wasn’t Jensen and Jared didn’t know any of the people in the room.

“Oh,” he said, when they all turned to stare at him. “Sorry, I, uh…”

He practically sprinted to the nurse’s station.

“The guy who was in room 7A, Jensen Ackles? Where’d he get moved to?”

 The nurse checked on the computer. “He checked himself out AMA, late last night.”

“No,” Jared put his hands to his head and tugged on his hair. “The idiot. The Goddamn idiot!”

He got out his cell phone and punched in Jensen’s number.

_“This number has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this message in error please check the number and call again.”_

 Jared’s blood turned to ice and he ran from the hospital, not stopping until he was pounding on Jensen’s front door. It was opened by Danneel who took one look at him and burst into tears.

“What’s going on?” he said. “Where is he? Where’s Jensen?”

Danni shook her head. “He’s gone.”

“What d’you mean, gone? He can’t be gone. He was hurt.”

Jared pushed his way inside, barely even looking at Chris, Felicia, Gen and Misha who were sprawled in the living room, bottles of liquor and empty pizza boxes scattered messily around them.

He headed straight for Jensen’s room, Danneel on his heels. He threw the door open and his heart practically beat out of his chest when he saw the stripped bed and the empty, open closet.

He turned and faced his friends, who were watching him expectantly, as if he were the one with the answers. Jared shook his head.

“What’s going on?” he demanded.

“You don’t know?” Danni said softly. “We thought maybe you’d know.”

Chris staggered to his feet and stumbled his way toward Jared, a bottle of Wild Turkey clutched in his fist. “This is all your fault!”

Before Jared could open his mouth to agree, Gen was in between the two of them, her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing furiously.

“The Hell it is,” she said. “It ain’t Jare’s fault Mark decided to go after Jay.”

Chris pointed the bourbon bottle at Jared. “Why didn’t he go after him? Why ain’t he the one who got beat up? He’s the fucker that decked Pellegrino! Why’d Jay have to pay for it?”

Gen laughed. “Mark’s not stupid. Look how many people he hurt by going after Jay?”

Chris bit back a sob and then collapsed back onto the sofa next to Felicia, taking a long pull from the bottle.

Jared went and sat down tentatively beside Chris. He remembered the manila folder his dad’d had in the limo with Pellegrino’s name written down the side; he remembered that Jensen had worked parties that Thomas Gibson Garcia had attended.

“I think,” he said tentatively. “I think Pellegrino might’ve known who my dad was.”

Misha cocked his head sideways. “Yes,” he said from his place on the floor. “That makes sense.”

Chris and the girls looked from Jared to Misha and back again.

“You know who my dad is?” Jared asked Misha.

Misha looked a little sheepish. “I have…connections,” he said.

“Connections?”

Chris snorted. “He’s Russian mafia, Jare, didn’t you know?”

Misha looked hugely affronted. “I am not,” he said indignantly. He turned to Jared. “My family might be. Allegedly. But I just run a yoga studio,” he tilted his head again. “On occasion, I hear things.”

Danni patted Misha on the arm. “So who’s Jared’s dad?”

Misha looked at Jared. “You wanna take this one?”

Jared shook his head. “He disowned me yesterday. As far as I’m concerned he’s not my father anymore.”

“Misha?” said Gen. “The suspense is fucking killing me.”

Misha looked around at everyone and then sighed. “Jared was adopted by Thomas Gibson Garcia and Catherine J Monaghan.”

“No way!” said Felicia. “Oh man! How are you so clueless about movies?”

“Sheltered upbringing,” Jared said with a shrug.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!” Danni pouted. “Did Jay know?”

Jared nodded. “He found out yesterday.”

Chris pointed the bourbon bottle at him again. “Fucker!” he said. “That’s why he left isn’t it? Because of you! I knew it. Knew it was your fault!”

Danni sighed. “He was always leaving, Chris. He told us often enough. We just didn’t believe him.”

Chris grunted and took another swig of bourbon.

Jared glanced across at Gen who was sitting very quietly with her head down. He’d become close to her over the months he’d known her and her reaction was worrying him.

“Gen?” he said. “Are you okay?”

Gen cleared her throat. “Yeah. Just. Uh,” she looked away. “This is kinda awkward.”

“What?”

“Your dad definitely knew Mark. Honey wasn’t just some random, one off thing.”

“Honey?”

Gen rolled her eyes. “The girl your dad was caught with? She has a name, you know. Anyway, Mark’s his ‘go to’ guy. He likes ‘em young.”

Her eyes skittered away and Jared knew in that instant that his dad had been a client of hers at some point. He would never ask her and he knew that she would never tell him, but he knew all the same.

“Here,” Chris passed him the bourbon bottle. “You can’t choose your family, Jare. Right Misha? If you could, I sure as shit wouldn’t a chosen mine. And Misha wouldn’t a chosen his. And your dad’s a fuckin’ jerk. Best thing to do’s get drunk, forget all about ‘em.”

Jared took a small sip, savoring the burn, before passing it back.

“Here’s to dead beat dads,” Chris said.

“I’ll drink to that,” Felicia said. She stole the bourbon from Chris and swallowed down a mouthful. “It’s like you’re Luke Skywalker,” she said to Jared, “and we all just found out that Darth Vader’s your father.”

Jared smiled at her. “Does that mean Jensen’s frozen in carbonite on Jabba the Hutt’s wall?”

Felicia giggled. “He might be. Hey, did I ever show you my Princess-Leia-in-a- slave-bikini tattoo?” She stood and started to unfasten her pants.

 Jared put a hand to her arm to stop her. “How’s Osric?” he asked. “Is there any news?”

Felica’s face fell and she sat down again. “Not yet. He’s in pain and he’s scared, but he’s doin’ alright. Jensen went to see him, you know? Last night. He said he was sorry, that it was on him that Osric got hurt, that he might lose his eyesight because of him and he could never make it right. Osric told him to take his pity party somewhere else and Jensen left.”

Gen snorted.

Felicia dug her fingernails into Jared’s arm. “Could you maybe talk to Jeff and Sam about Osric? He’s terrified that he’s gonna get put back into foster care and the last few times have been bad. If they could keep an eye on him or something, it would be awesome.”

Jared said that he would before taking another long drink from the bottle of liquor that Chris passed him.

“So,” Chris slurred. “If Jabba hasn’t got him, where’d’you think Jay went?”

“Texas?” Danni suggested.

“No way,” Chris said. “Never.”

“College,” said Jared. “Well, not college yet, but a college town.”

Danni met his eyes. “Yeah,” she said. “He was always talkin’ about goin’ to college one day.”

“We gonna go find him?” Chris asked. “Drag his ass back home?”

“What for, Chris?” Danni’s eyes were wet with tears. “Jay’s smart, always has been. He’s got something none of us have and—”

  Chris scoffed. “You reckon he ‘owes it to himself’ to bail on us or some shit? Well fuck that. What about us? What about his _family_? He’s my fuckin’ _brother_ , and he just left.”

“And I’m so fucking glad that he did,” Danni said fiercely, “because tomorrow I'm gonna wake up and I'll be forty, and I'll still be doing this shit. And so will you. But Jay? He never really belonged. He’s got brains; he’s got a way out. And good on him for taking it. Never mind owing it to himself, it'd be an insult to _us_ if he was still here in twenty years.”

Jared frowned. “That speech sounded really—”

“Shhh,” Danni hushed him. “I may have been paraphrasing a Matt Damon movie,” she whispered. “Just go with it.”

“This is fuckin’ _bullshit_ ,” Chris growled.

“She’s right, though, Chris,” said Gen. “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it was never meant to be.”

“Fucking Hallmark card bullshit,” Chris muttered. “What d’you think, Jare?”

Jared took a deep breath. “I think that Gen’s right. But I also think that sometimes you have to fight for the people you love.”

Chris punched the air. “So we’re goin’ after him?”

Jared ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head.

“I think Jensen deserves his fresh start.”

It broke his heart to say it, but Jared knew how important it was to Jensen to put his past behind him and move on. Jared had nearly messed that up for him, but if he could step aside and put that right, then surely that was a greater act of love than chasing him down and putting him in a spotlight he’d never wanted? Wasn’t that true love? Putting another’s happiness before you own?

Jared took the bottle of bourbon from Chris and took another long drink. He let the liquor burn through him and he let his heart break in two as he vowed to let Jensen go.


	9. Epilogue

_**August 2001** _

 

**T** he doorbell jangled as Kim rushed into Benny’s Beanz, her dark brown hair pulled into a rough pony tail and her sunglasses askew.

“Sorry, sorry,” she ducked behind the counter, dumping her purse, yanking off her sunglasses and struggling into a Benny’s Beanz apron with more haste than speed. Jensen, who was taking off his own apron, took pity on her and helped her tie it. “The sitter was late again,” she told him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s been so quiet that Ty’s out the back cleaning the store room.”

“Yeah, well. Better make the most of it, Sweetie. Now that the Residence Halls are open again, it’ll get busy soon enough,” she pursed her lips. “Speaking of, aren’t you starting up there this semester?”

 Jensen ducked his head and ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Yeah. Moved into Sutter Hall the day before yesterday.”

“Really? Why? You’ve been rooming with Dr Richings for the last year. Why not just stay with him?”

Jensen shrugged. “I just wanted to have a real college experience, you know? I think my mom would’ve wanted that for me.”

Kim reached out a hand and rubbed his shoulder. “She’d be so proud of you, Jensen.”

In the amended personal history that he’d created for himself, Jensen had finished high school in Texas and then put off starting college to stay at home and care for his sick mama. Now that she’d passed, he’d taken up his place at college, three years later than planned. It was a good story, one that nicely wiped away the last six years. He almost wished it were true.

“Do you have a roommate?” Kim asked.

“Not sure,” Jensen dumped his dirty apron in the hamper under the counter. “I was supposed to have one, but the guy decided to move in with his girlfriend off-campus at the last minute. So I’m guessing I’ll get some late applicant. Or maybe I’ll get the room all to myself. That’d be pretty cool.”

A couple came in and ordered chocolate malt milkshakes and cheesecake and Jensen helped plate up the desserts, despite the fact that he was officially off the clock.

 When Kim tried to shoo him away he simply shrugged and told her that it wasn’t as if he had anywhere better to be.

Kim pursed her lips and shook her head. “And isn’t that just the mystery of the year. A good looking boy like you should have young men falling all over him,” she clucked her tongue. “It’s such a shame you’re not straight, I can think of at least six young ladies who’d promise me their first born to be set up on a date with you.”

Jensen met her eyes and smiled. “Thank God for small mercies.”

Kim poked him in the chest. “Not fair. You can’t go smiling at women like that, you know with the lips and the, the _eyes_ , getting even us thirty-something mommas all hot and bothered; not when you’re gay and we don’t stand a chance. It’s just…it’s not fair!”

Jensen felt his cheeks start to flush. “And on that note, the Gaggia’s all yours.”

“She behaving herself today?” Kim ran a hand over the aging coffee machine.

“She’s running fine. I back flushed with Cino Cleano earlier this afternoon, so she’ll be good for another week.”

Kim beamed at him. “You’re a doll. See you tomorrow, Jensen.”

Leaving the café, Jensen turned right, then right again, heading for Sutter Memorial Hospital instead of his new dorm room. It was only a five minute walk from the café and Jensen had promised Julian that, even though he’d moved out, he’d stay in contact; he owed the guy that much, at least.

When Jensen had fled the hospital in Hollywood and packed his few possessions as quickly as possible, he had gone to Sebastian. Distressed and in pain he’d begged him for help to get out of town, and the photographer had sat him down and made him talk through his plans. Jensen hadn’t actually thought much further ahead than ‘get out of town and start over’, but when Sebastian asked him what his fresh start would look like, Jensen told him that he wanted to go to college. Sebastian started lecturing him about SATs and college applications and when Jensen interrupted him to say that he’d actually already applied to CSU Sacramento and Fresno for the next fall semester, Sebastian had smiled like a proud parent and sent him to Julian.

Dr Julian Richings was a cardiovascular surgeon at Sutter Memorial Hospital and a respected alumnus of Sac State; and he’d been exactly what Jensen had needed.

Sebastian had known Julian since childhood and while they weren’t exactly bosom buddies, there was a degree of genuine friendship between them. Dr Richings even had several of Seb’s mainstream photographs on display in his living room. When he and Jensen got to know each other a little better, Jensen learned that Julian had a small, private collection of some of Seb’s more risqué work too.

Julian took Jensen in on the strength of Sebastian’s say so and at first, Jensen really wasn’t sure what to make of him. Gaunt and brusque, his no-nonsense demeanor wasn’t something Jensen knew how to handle. Flirting got him nothing but a stony stare and while Julian was always polite and helpful, Jensen couldn’t help but find him slightly terrifying. Two weeks into Jensen’s stay with him, the doctor had knocked on the door of Jensen’s bedroom and said, “Now that you’re feeling a little better, we need to discuss the fee for your room and board.”

Jensen’s stomach sank. So much for his fresh start.

“Sure,” he faked a smile. “How do you want me?”

Jensen was treated to another stony stare. And then a frown.

“Ah,” Julian said. “Sebastian said model. He meant working boy.”

Jensen looked away. “We can’t all be doctors.”

Julian moved into the room and looked down at Jensen. “No, I suppose not,” he frowned again. “Are you an addict?”

“Recovering,” Jensen said. “I’ve been clean for nearly four years.”

“What was your poison?”

“Oxy, mostly. Sometimes Speed.”

Julian nodded and stroked his chin. “Your profession _does_ explain the flirting. I’m old enough to be your father; I didn’t think you could possibly be attracted to me. For the record, I’m not sexually attracted to other men,” he tilted his head. “And you? Are you gay or merely gay for pay?”

Jensen licked his lips. “Yeah,” he said. “Gay. You don’t care, right? I mean, you’re friends with Seb.”

Julian shook his head. “To each his or her own. I don’t judge. Besides, I’m hardly what you’d call _straight_.”

Jensen’s eyebrows shot up. “What? But you just said…”

“That I’m not sexually attracted to men. Correct. You know that I have some of Sebastian’s work hanging in my living room. Would you like to see my private collection?”

 Julian didn’t have any pictures of male nudes in his private collection; it consisted entirely of naked women in various forms of bondage.

“Right,” said Jensen. “Not my thing. But, uh, like you said, ‘to each his own’. Whatever trips your trigger, man.”

Julian put the photos away.

“So,” he said, “about your room and board.”

Jensen’s eyes darted to his. “Seriously? You wanna tie me up?”

Julian blinked. “No,” he said. “I’ll admit that segue could’ve been misleading, but, no. I want you to pay $100.00 per week.”

“Oh,” Jensen’s relief was palpable. “I can do that.”

Julian fixed him with another stony expression. “While you live under my roof, you are not to engage in prostitution. And absolutely no drug use either. Is that clear?”

“Yessir,” Jensen said. “I’m out of that line of work anyway, this is a fresh start.”

“Good,” Julian said, “and if you’re ever tempted—by either sex work or drugs—I’d like you to remember that I have my own dungeon and a very large collection of paddles and canes.”

Jensen swallowed. “Ten-four,” he said.

Julian stroked his chin thoughtfully. “So you’ll need a job?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I have savings. But, yeah, I’m gonna need to find some legit work. I’ll probably still do the occasional stint of modelling for Seb, but, uh, that ain’t gonna be regular. So…”

Julian smiled. “It just so happens that the coffee shop near the hospital is looking for a kitchen hand.”

Jensen grinned to himself as he remembered his interview with Ty and the way Julian’s friends and the staff at Benny’s Beanz had just accepted him into the fold, no questions asked.

Julian was in surgery when Jensen arrived at the hospital. He hung around for half an hour, chatting to the nursing staff, but when Julian still wasn’t out by then, he figured he probably shouldn’t put off returning to his dorm room any longer. He was still having trouble accessing the network with his laptop and every day that passed made the chance of him getting a roommate more likely; Jensen should probably be home for that, if only to make sure the dude didn’t touch any of his stuff or try to claim his bed.

The first thing Jensen noticed as he approached his room was that the name plate beside the door had significantly more letters in it than it had had earlier. Jensen swallowed. It looked like he had a roommate, one called…he moved closer and just about died of fright when he saw that the dude’s first name was Jared. The last name though, definitely wasn’t Gumm. For a start, it had a billion more letters than Gumm, and it was foreign. Jensen spelled it out P a d a l e c k i. Weird. He glanced at his own name and did a double take, his heart practically leaping into his mouth. His name had been changed to Jackles Freckles.

“What the fuck?” he breathed.

Slowly, with a huge amount of trepidation, he pushed the door to his room open.

The first thing he noticed was the very large potted orchid sitting on his desk.

“What the fuck?” he said again, because he thought it needed repeating.

The second thing he noticed was the very large man sitting on the spare bed.

It was Jared. His Jared.

“Hello, Jensen,” said his Jared and Jensen’s heart _did not_ flutter.

“You’re Padaleski?”

“Padalecki,” Jared corrected. “Yeah. It’s my birth mother’s name. I made contact with her about six months ago. Turns out she was an illegal immigrant working as a maid in a Texas hotel, that’s why she gave me up for adoption.” Jared huffed softly. “And all this time I thought I was born in Poland.”

 “Oh,” said Jensen. Because Jared was here and his brain was sort of stuck on that fact.

Jared ran a hand through his hair and took a deep, steadying breath.

“I had this whole speech planned out,” he said, “but seeing you…wow. You look good, Jensen.”

Jensen moved into the room and shut the door.

“You too,” he said. “You grew some more, huh?”

Jared ducked his head. “Yeah. I’m almost 6ft4 now.”

“You’ve been working out too,” Jensen gravitated to his ex-boyfriend’s side.

“Yeah,” Jared flexed a bicep and Jensen resisted the temptation to lean across and lick it.

“How did you know where I was?” Jensen asked.

Jared looked a little sheepish. “Well, I knew you’d head to a college town; your college dream was too important to you to let go. And I figured it would probably be either Sacramento or Fresno because I knew you’d applied to CSU in both towns and ‘close to the stroll’ definitely wasn’t a priority, so, uh,” Jared ran a hand through his hair. “I hired a private detective to track you down. In a totally non-stalkery way, I promise.”

“And then you arranged to be my roommate. Yeah, cuz that’s not _Single White Female_ of you at all.”

Jared shook his head. “I haven’t seen that one. Sorry.”

 “How’d you swing it?” Jensen asked. “The roommate thing?”

Jared shrugged. “It’s amazing what you can buy with a shitload of money and a little bit of fame.”

Jensen tensed and looked at him sideways. “You can’t buy me,” he said.

Jared’s eyes became puppy-dog sad. “When have I ever tried to buy you?” he asked. “It’s never been like that between us.”

Jensen sat down next to Jared on the bed, his elbows on his knees. “I saw the articles,” he said to the floor, “the ones about you and your dad in the New York Post. You kept me out of it.”

Jared nodded. “I wanted you to have your fresh start. That was important to you. So it was important to me.”

Jensen picked at his cuticles and then half-turned toward Jared. “You know,” he looked up at Jared from beneath his eyelashes, “when I left, I kinda thought you might come after me. When you didn’t, I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or disappointed.  

Jared pulled his legs up and scooted back until he was leaning against the wall.

“Hardest thing I’ve ever done,” he said, “but Gen kept telling me, ‘if you love something, set it free.’”

Jensen scoffed. “She get a job with Hallmark?”

Jared’s mouth twisted at one corner. “Chris didn’t agree with her. He kept telling me that you should fight for the people you love. He said to tell you ‘Hi’, by the way,” Jared inclined his head to one side. “Actually, that’s a lie. He said to tell you that you’re a fucking asshole and that he’s gonna whoop your ass the next time he sees you.”

Jensen’s short laugh threatened to turn into a sob and he pressed the heel of his palm against his mouth briefly and then turned to face Jared. “This fresh start crap ain’t as easy as it sounds, you know. I missed you guys every day, so bad sometimes I could barely breathe. And in a lotta ways, I feel like I’m back in the closet, terrified that someone’s gonna find out my deep, dark secret. Omigod!” Jensen faked a high-pitched voice. “Did you know that green-eyed barista down at Benny’s Beanz used to be a whore?” He resumed his normal voice. “I’m back to acting all the time. It’s exhausting.”

Jared made a sympathetic noise.  Jensen glanced at him and got the feeling the younger man was resisting the temptation to scoop him into a bone-breaking hug.

“Why didn’t you call?” Jared asked softly. “Why didn’t you let us know what you were doing? That you were okay?”

Jensen ran a hand through his hair and sucked in a breath. “I wanted it to be a clean break. And then…when I started to think maybe I’d made a mistake,” he shrugged, “I figured it was too late…you probably all hated me for being such a dick.”

A distressed noise escaped from Jared and he shook his head. “I’m not gonna say there weren’t some hurt feelings,” he said, “because…you’re family, Jay, and we missed you. But none of us could ever hate you,” his mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Not even Chris.”

Jensen ducked his head and smiled sheepishly, clearly at a loss for words.

“Do you enjoy the job?” Jared changed the subject. “Down at the coffee shop?”

Jensen shrugged. “Yeah. My co-workers are nice and I get to flirt harmlessly with the customers. Ty says the tips’ve gone up heaps since I started. I guess experience in whoring yourself out can be useful, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jared nodded, his expression serious. “Being able to sell yourself is a very marketable skill.”

“Jesus, Jared,” Jensen barked out a laugh. He ran a hand through his hair and then turned to face the younger man. “What are we doing? And what’s with the plant?” He waved a hand at the orchid.

Jared grinned at him. “Well,” he said, “I’m wooing you.”

“Wooing?” Jensen raised an eyebrow.

 “Yeah,” Jared nodded. “I’m probably not very good at it, I haven’t had a lot of experience,” he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I, uh, I dated Richard for a while. The reporter?”

Jensen’s face tightened. “Really?”

“Yeah. All the interviews we did, we got kinda close. He’s actually a really nice guy.”

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “Really? A nice guy who digs up dirt on people and tries to ruin their lives. Right.”

Jared shook his head. “He hated his job. He got offered a job with _Time Magazine_ because of the articles he did on me and dad, and he quit the Post straight away. Turns out he got on to me because the company that owns the Post, News Limited, had its journalists tapping the cell phones of celebrities. They were monitoring my mom’s phone. Richard gave me a heads up and my mom’s talking to her lawyers. That’ll probably hit the news in the next few months. It’s gonna be a big scandal.”

“Fuck,” said Jensen. “Gonna be a lotta people worried about a lotta secrets. So what happened with you and Richard? Why’d you split?”

 Jared smiled sadly. “Neither of us was interested in bottoming and, uh, the long distance thing wasn’t easy either, so we decided to call it quits. Stayed friends,” he cleared his throat. “After Richard, I went out a few times with a guy called Brock. He was a volunteer down at the drop-in center. That lasted until Chris pointed out that he was essentially a younger, sleazier, less-attractive version of you,” Jared shrugged. “After that I just stopped dating.”

“Oh,” Jensen tried not to feel irrationally pleased that Jared had giving up on dating. Hearing that he’d tried to move on had hurt; more than it should’ve.

“I went out clubbing a few months after I got here,” he confessed. “Let a guy pick me up and take me home,” he shrugged. “I had a panic attack as soon as we started stripping and had to leave. I hit the bottle pretty hard after that, it got…bad. Julian—” Jensen paused and wondered how to explain Julian to Jared.

“The guy you were rooming with,” Jared said. “A friend of Sebastian’s.”

Jensen was impressed. “Wow. You did do your homework.”

Jared shrugged.

“Julian’s into BDSM,” Jensen continued, looking hard at Jared to check if he understood.

Jared nodded. “Bondage and discipline; whips and chains and all that.”

“Right. After two weeks of watching me come home wasted nearly every night, nearly losing my job over it, Julian dragged me into his playroom and showed me his collection of paddles and canes. He told me I had two choices; get sober or get out. He said that if I stayed and continued to get wasted, there’d be painful consequences, and uh, he wasn’t real subtle about what those consequences would be.”

Jensen decided not to mention that he’d broken down and cried then, and that Julian had held him until he’d cried himself into a stupor, and then put him to bed.

“The next day he gave me a card for one of his colleagues at the hospital. A psychologist. It took me almost a month to make the call. But I did.”

“So you’re seeing a counselor?”

Jensen nodded.

“How’s that going?”

Jensen shrugged. “I’m doin’ better than I was,” he cleared his throat. “So how is everyone? How’s Danni? Jeff and Sam?”

“They’re good. Danni’s working with Misha now, learning how to be a yoga instructor. And Jeff and Sam adopted Osric.”

Jensen’s shoulders tightened. “Yeah? How is the kid?”

 “He’s doing pretty well, considering. He lost the sight in one eye and he’s only got partial vision in the other one, but he’s happy. He’s going to school with my brother and sisters at Crossroads School in Santa Monica, courtesy of the Catherine J Monaghan Foundation’s _New Path Scholarship_ for disadvantaged kids.”

“Oh,” Jensen said. “That’s…I’m glad he’s doing okay. What happened to him…he got dragged into my shit and…he’s a good kid. He didn’t deserve that,” Jensen paused. “It’s a good thing,” he said finally, “what your mom’s doing.”

Jared’s stare was intense. “Yeah, well. I told her about you and—”

Jensen flinched. “You told her about me? Why?”

“I was trying to explain that kids don’t choose to be homeless; that they’re not on the streets because they’re naughty children who want to punish their parents for not buying them a new Playstation; they’ve either been abused or neglected or they’ve come from families that refused to accept them—or even began to actively abuse them—after they came out as same-sex oriented or trans,” Jared’s voice rose as he warmed to his subject. “I mean,” he waved an arm, “there’s a reason why 40% of homeless teenagers are LGBT when it’s estimated that less than five percent of teens are.”

“Not telling me anything I don’t know, Jare.”

Jared nodded. “Right, but a lot of people out there _don’t_ know.  They think that the tactics street kids use to survive on the streets; begging, loitering, shoplifting, prostitution, and sleeping rough; mean that they’re somehow inherently criminal. In reality, the fact that our society criminalizes these survival behaviors means that street kids are alienated and stigmatized from the get go, which just makes things harder for them. Anyway, telling my mom about you, you know, a real person, who’d been through real trauma, helped her to understand.”

“Awesome,” Jensen put his head in his hands.

“Jensen…she already knew some stuff about you, thanks to my dad. I just helped her to put it all in perspective; to understand. The scholarship was totally her idea, you know.  She wanted to do something to help kids,” Jared smiled wryly. “No strings attached.”

 “Well,” Jensen got to his feet. “She did do pretty well outta the divorce settlement—according to E! News anyway—so I guess she could afford it.”

“Yeah,” Jared acknowledged. “And she used a lot of the settlement to set up the Foundation. She got the marriage annulled too, you know. It’s not public knowledge, but she successfully argued that Thomas was _deliberately deceitful about some of his personal qualities that were likely to_ _objectively and gravely perturb conjugal life_. In other words, he didn’t tell her he preferred to have sex with underage girls. A chunk of the money she got in the divorce, as well as my Dad keeping his mouth shut about you, and our relationship, was the price she made him pay for keeping the annulment out of the press.”

“Huh” Jensen said. “You’ll have to thank her for that for me.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Okay. Well. I gotta set up my laptop. So, uh. You really wanna do this? The roommates thing?”

Jared climbed from the bed and approached Jensen slowly, reaching out and putting his hands on the older man’s shoulders.

“No. Not really. What I really want to do is the boyfriends thing. And I know that last time we talked, you didn’t think we could get past, you know, my parents being famous movie stars, but I really believe that we can,” Jared paused. “The fame thing isn’t real you know. I may have famous parents, but I’m also just a boy, standing in front of another boy, asking him to love him.”

Jensen’s eyes widened. “ _Notting Hill_? Seriously? What did Danni do to you?”

“She made me get my sorry ass out of bed and eat Ben and Jerry’s with her while watching all her ‘break up’ movies.”

Jensen closed his eyes, his mouth tight. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jared raised a hand to cup Jensen’s cheek. “The point is…you’ve been really careful. There’s no paper trail that could connect you to your former profession, no convictions as an adult, no _proof_. As far as the press is concerned, we met in college, fell in love and—”

“Shut up, Jared, Just…shut up,” Jensen leaned forward and pressed his lips against Jared’s, kissing him softly at first and then deepening the kiss, his tongue licking inside Jared’s mouth, touching and tasting.

Jared was pliant for a long moment and then he surged forward, gripping the back of Jensen’s head and plundering his mouth possessively, sucking on Jensen’s tongue and then thrusting with his own and causing Jensen’s cock to come to attention. Jensen groaned and pushed Jared back towards the bed. Jared went willingly, sitting on the edge and then wriggling back to the wall when Jensen climbed on top of him.

“Off,” Jensen said, pulling at Jared’s tee-shirt and then yanking off his own. 

Jared ran his hands across Jensen’s chest, plucking at his nipples and making him gasp, before lowering his hands to grasp at his hips. Jensen took Jared’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply again, grinding down against Jared’s rapidly fattening dick.

Jared broke away from the kiss just long enough to bark, “Up,” at Jensen as he pulled at his hips. Jensen complied immediately, groaning into Jared’s mouth as the younger man pulled down his jeans and briefs and freed his cock. 

“Love your hands, Jare,” he panted. “So big, want them on me, in me. _Fuck_ ,”

Jared cupped his ass with both hands and squeezed the round globes before pulling them apart and Jensen whimpered against his neck as cool air blew across his exposed hole. He got his brain back on line long enough to undo Jared’s jeans and pull his cock out. He slotted them both together and began to rutt against him, moaning out a string of swear words when Jared took ahold of both their cocks in one of his big hands and began to stroke and pull, just the way Jensen had been missing this past year.

A finger nudged against his lips.

“Get it good and wet,” Jared said, his eyes dark with lust. Jensen sucked the finger into his mouth, licking and slurping until Jared was groaning. Jared withdrew his finger and reached around, rubbing carefully against Jensen’s entrance.

“Put it in me,” Jensen panted, squeezing his eyes shut when Jared thrust up hard, working him beautifully; making him see stars. It was over quickly after that. Just a few more tugs on his dick, just a few more nudges on his prostate, and Jensen was spurting between them, babbling cuss words so loudly that someone banged on the wall and told them to shut up. Jared followed him over the edge with an embarrassed whimper and then they slumped together, sated and content.     

When Jensen could breathe properly again he sat back and looked adoringly down at Jared, who’d slumped against the wall.

“God, I missed you,” he said.

Jared struggled upright and began to clean them both with his discarded tee-shirt. “That was a yes, right? We can do this? We can be together?”

Jensen was still straddling Jared’s thighs, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You had me at hello, Jared,” he said. “You had me at hello.”

“That’s worse than _Notting Hill_ ,” Jared wrapped his arms around Jensen’s waist and flipped him onto his back, pinning him to the bed. “I’m going to forgive you for quoting _Jerry Maguire_ ,” he said, “but only because I love you so much.”

Jensen looked up at him from beneath his eyelashes, his green eyes bright. “Jared?”

“Yeah, I know. Ditto.”

Jensen shook his head. “Not ditto, Jared. I love you,” he grinned wickedly again. “You complete me. And I just—”

Jared shut him up with another kiss, running a hand down to Jensen’s soft cock and taking a firm hold. Jensen groaned and began to fatten in his grip and Jared grinned to himself. If they were going with cheesy lines from movies, then he had a better one; he and Danneel really had spent a lot of time eating Ben and Jerry’s and watching romcoms together over the last year.

 “I love that you get a little crinkle in your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts,” he whispered to Jensen. “I love that after I spend a day with you, I can still smell you on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's the first day of college. I came here today because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Jensen tipped his head back and laughed and Jared thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

 

_The End_

_Thanks for reading. I hope you've enjoyed the story! I've had a lot of fun playing in this make-believe world and if anyone is interested in timestamps (past or future) or missing scenes, please feel free to leave prompts in the comments or pm me! :)_


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